


At the Beginning

by heiressofanor



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assistant Professor Willow, Aurors, Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Diary/Journal entries, Engagement, F/M, Family, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Professors, Hogwarts Third Year, Kidnapping, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Oz Starts Up a Wizarding Band, Prisoner of Azkaban AU, Sirius Escapes Azkaban, Teenage Pregnancy, Three Broomsticks, Unplanned Pregnancy, Werewolves, Wizarding World, Wolfsbane Potion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6310687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heiressofanor/pseuds/heiressofanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As high school ends with a bang, Willow and Oz's adventure is just beginning. There are many challenges on the road ahead and many obstacles they must overcome on their journey to uncover the secrets of their pasts so that they can build a better future together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Come So Far (Got So Far to Go)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net and also on tthfanfic.org under my same penname.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oz and Willow experience some major relationship drama during their first year of college.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some foul language, mentions of minors having sex/getting pregnant
> 
> Spoilers: Buffy up to Season 4 "Wild at Heart" & some of "New Moon Rising," though it's mostly AU after "Wild at Heart"  
> Harry Potter up to Prisoner of Azkaban (books mostly)-will go AU during PoA
> 
> AN: This story will contain some OCs. If you don't like that, don't read this.
> 
> AN2: Also, in my own head cannon, Harry was born in 1988. Therefore he attended Hogwarts from 1999-2006. The Marauders attended 1977-1984.
> 
> AN3: I don't hate Tara. I actually really like her character. That said, I'm a total Willow/Oz shipper and many of my stories end up with them together.
> 
> Chapter AN: There may be some direct quotes from both "Wild at Heart" and "New Moon Rising" in this chapter, though I tried to keep that to a minimum.
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling nor am I Joss Whedon. I am simply me. I own nothing that you recognize.

_“Life is a road now and forever a_  
_Wonderful journey._  
 _I'll be there when the world stops turning_  
 _I'll be there when the story’s through_  
 _In the end I wanna be standin'_  
 _At the beginning with you.”_

_-“At the Beginning” by Donna Lewis & Richard Marx from Anastasia_

****

** Prologue: Come So Far (Got So Far to Go) **

****

_“Hey old friend, together_  
_Side by side and year by year_  
 _The road was filled with twists and turns_  
 _Oh but that's the road that got us here_  
  
_Let's move past the bad times_  
 _But before those memories fade_  
 _Let's forgive but not forget_  
 _And learn from all the mistakes we made”_

_-“Come So Far (Got So far to Go)” from Hairspray_

 

                **_June 10, 1999_ :**  They had survived: Oz, Willow, Xander, Buffy, Giles, Cordelia, Angel, and Wesley.  Of course, there were some who hadn’t made it, like Harmony and Larry, but they had lost a whole lot fewer people than they would have if the Sunnydale High class of 1999 hadn’t fought back.

                Oz dropped Willow off at her house and gave her a goodnight/I’m-glad-we-survived kiss before heading back home himself.  He slipped in the front door quietly, hoping not to wake his mother.  When he looked up, he was slightly surprised to find that the light in the kitchen was still on.  He entered the room to see his mother, Nancy Osborne, sitting at the table, a cup of steaming coffee held tight in her pale hands.

“You survived,” said Nancy quietly as Oz stepped into her line of sight, never taking her eyes off the wooden table.

“Yeah.”

                Nancy blinked owlishly and looked at her son.  “That’s good,” she said.

                “I’d like to think so,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

                “Yes, well—”

                “How long have you known?” interrupted Oz quietly.

                “Known what?” asked Nancy, poorly attempting to conceal her twitching hands.

                “Known about the things that go bump in the night—about the supernatural.”

                Nancy winced.  “Since always,” she replied.  Oz raised a questioning eyebrow at his mother.  Nancy sighed and explained, “My mother—your Gramma Nellie—is a witch.  She explained all things supernatural to your Aunt Maureen and I when we were very young.”

                “So…does that make you a witch too?”

                Nancy shook her head, her raven curls tumbling from the loose hold of her nighttime braid.  “No,” she replied.  “Our dad—Grandpa George—was a muggle; Maureen and I are squibs.”

                “Muggle?  Squibs?” asked Oz, brow furrowing in confusion.

                “Non-magical people, like Grandpa George, and non-magical children of witches or wizards, like Aunt Maureen and I,” explained Nancy.

                Oz quirked an eyebrow curiously.  “What does that make me?” he asked.

                “Besides a werewolf?”

                Oz tensed.  “How?” he asked.

                Nancy sighed.  “My mother is the National Director of the Department of Magical Creatures—Maureen told her when Jordy bit you and she told me.”

                “Ah,” said Oz, relaxing a bit.  If she hadn’t done anything to him yet, she probably wasn’t going to.  Besides, she was his mother; he’d hope she’d find it in her heart to love him no matter what.  “So, what’s that make me?” asked Oz, going back to his original question.

                “Based on what I’ve observed, you’re a wizard, Daniel.”

                “Really?”

                “Mm-hm,” replied Nancy.  “Don’t know if you’re muggle-born, pureblood, or half-blood, but you’re most definitely a wizard.”

                “How can you not know?” asked Oz.

                “Daniel, you’re adopted,” confessed Nancy.  “Your father—may his soul rest in peace—and I adopted you when you were only a week old.”

                “Huh,” said Oz.  “I think I need to go process this now.”

                As Oz left the room, Nancy said quietly, “I’ll always love you, Daniel.  You father loved you too.  Never forget that.  _Please_.”

                “I know,” said Oz quietly from down the hall, his werewolf hearing coming in handy, “but I need some time and space right now.”

 

                **_June 11, 1999_ :**  “Mom, I need to know.”

                “Know what?” asked Nancy, flipping the pancakes on the stove and brushing a stray raven curl out of her face.

                “About my birth parents—about me,” replied Oz, sitting down at the table.

                “Oh,” said Nancy, turning her gaze on her currently orange-haired son.

                “Do you know anything?” asked Oz, his stormy blue eyes boring into his mother’s moss green.

                “They were both very young,” she said.  “They were still in school.”

                “Anything else?”

                “You were born in London.”

                “England?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Thanks, Mom.”

                “You’re going to look for them?”

                Oz shrugged.  “I have to know,” he said.

                “Well, good luck then.”

                “Thanks Mom.  Got any sausage?”

 

                “So,” said Oz, sitting down on the park bench beside his girlfriend, “I found out I’m adopted.”

                “Huh,” said Willow, turning her jade green eyes on him.  “Join the club.”

                “You too?” said Oz, quirking an eyebrow at his fellow (natural) redhead.

                “Mm-hm.  We have t-shirts and everything.”

                “Cool,” said Oz.  The couple fell into a comfortable silence.  “When’d you find out?” he finally asked.

                “My parents told me at my Bat Mitzvah.  That was the last time they were home for longer than a week straight,” said Willow.

                “Huh.  You ever think of looking for them?  Your birth parents.”

                “Yeah, I’ve thought about it, but it’s hard—the orphanage I was adopted from is in London.”

                “Really?” said Oz.

                “Mm-hm,” replied Willow.

                “Huh.  I was born in London.”

                “That’s kinda wiggy.”

                “Uber wiggy.”

                “Yeah.”

                “So why’s that hard?” asked Oz.

                “Hm?” said Willow.  “Oh, well, you see, I was rescued from this creepy old guy—who they think kidnapped me as a baby—when I was a year old.  The Rosenbergs—Ira and Sheila—adopted me a couple months later when no one came to claim me.”

                Oz hugged Willow and kissed her forehead lovingly.  “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered in her ear.

                “It’s okay,” said Willow, snuggling closer to Oz.  “I don’t really remember much about it anyway.”

                “So,” he said, changing topics expertly, “do you know if Willow’s your real name?”

                Willow shook her head.  “It might be, but I’m not entirely sure,” she said.  “The orphanage called me Willow cause of my willow tree necklace—it’s the only thing I have that came from before everything,” she explained, pulling the gold pendant from under her shirt and showing it to Oz.  “What about you, Oz?”

                Oz shrugged.  “I’m still Daniel,” he said.  “Daniel Julius.  Mom showed me the birth certificate—doesn’t have my parents’ names on it, though.  Doesn’t list a last name for me either.”

                “Why not?” asked Willow curiously.

                “Apparently they were both minors at the time and the hospital wouldn’t allow their names to be released to anyone but the adoption agency, and even then those records had to be sealed.”

                “Oh.  Well, I guess that makes sense,” said Willow thoughtfully.  “So, are you gonna look for them?”

                Oz shrugged.  “Eventually,” he said.  “Right now I’ve got more important things to think about.”

                “Oh?” said Willow, quirking her bright red eyebrow at her boyfriend.  “And what might these alleged ‘things’ be?”

                Oz quirked his equally red eyebrow back at her, leaned in close, mere centimeters from her lips, and stopped.  “You,” he breathed before kissing her soundly.

                “Eeep!” squeaked Willow happily as they pulled apart for air.

                “I love you, Willow,” said Oz, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

                “I love you too, Oz,” sighed Willow, a goofy smile on her face.  “Kiss me again?”

                “Always,” replied Oz, leaning in to oblige his redheaded goddess.

****

**_November 17, 1999_ **

 

Dear Diary,

 

            We all decided to hang out at the Bronze today, just to get a break from college life…and I guess Xander from whatever odd job he’s doing now.  And my whole predictable blanky theory was thrown _way_ out the window ‘cause guess who showed up?  _Giles!!_  Mr. “I’m-so-English-and-proper” watcher-man showed up at the Bronze!  Well, at least my predictable blanky person is still nice and predictable…mostly.  Oz was acting kind of strange tonight.  There was this band playing at the Bronze with this singer, _Veruca_ , and Oz couldn’t keep his eyes off of her; it was like he was mesmerized or something.  I’ll admit I’m worried, but I know I shouldn’t be.  I trust Oz, it’s just—what if he likes her better than me?  I mean, I’m just boring old reliable dog-geyser person Willow and she’s exciting and daring Veruca who’s in the music business too—totally the opposite of me.  I’m just being paranoid, right?  Oz would never leave me for her…would he?

 

Willow Danielle Rosenberg

 

**_November 22, 1999_ **

Dear Diary,

           

            Oz was sitting with Veruca this afternoon.  I was supposed to meet him at the campus café for lunch and when I found him he was sitting with _her_ talking about music just as cool as can be.  I made such a fool of myself too; I thought they were talking about singers, but they were talking about amps.  How embarrassing!  Oz was really sweet about it though, just like he always is.  That’s just part of why I love him so much.  But does he still love me like I love him?  I mean, I can tell that he thinks Veruca is sexy and he blushes that special blush that’s supposed to be just for me when he sees her.  I can’t help but be worried.  Buffy came by just after Oz left, so I was able to talk to her about my insecurities.  She’s the best!  She totally made me realize that Oz loves _me_ , not Veruca and that he’ll totally be over her in a day or two.  At least, I hope he will…

 

Willow Danielle Rosenberg

 

**_November 23, 1999_ **

 

11-23-99

 

            Something bad happened last night.  Something worse than just me breaking out of my cage as a wolf, which in and of itself is really bad.  And not just because I could have hurt someone (though that is the main reason), but also ‘cause, even though I’m untrained, I’m still technically a wizard and as such I fall under the jurisdiction of the Californian Wizarding Justice Department which requires all werewolves to sequester themselves safely away during the three nights of the full moon.  At least that’s what Grandma Nellie told me and if anyone should know werewolf laws its Penelope Zimmerman, long-time werewolf activist and stellar witch.  Anywho, the really bad thing that happened is that I think—I think—I’m pretty sure I slept with Veruca.  There, I said it.  I mean, it’s not like I remember anything from last night, but I woke up naked in the woods this morning with an equally naked Veruca beside me.  She admitted to me (quite proudly) that she’s a werewolf too, but when I asked her about her cage, she just made some sarcastic comment about a ball and a bell and told me I’d been “domesticated.”  She then tried to convince me that the wolf is more me than human me is and that we were meant to be free to run and kill as we please.  She also tried to convince me that we belong together.  I told her no.  I love Willow with all my heart and I hate to think that I’ve cheated on her, even if I can’t remember doing it.  Still…I can’t seem to get Veruca’s words out of my head: “Or you’re a wolf all the time and this human face is your disguise.”  I mean, I’m more human than wolf…right?

 

Oz

 

Dear Diary,

 

            When I went to visit Oz this morning (‘cause that’s what I always do after a wolf night), he was acting kind of odd—distracted, I guess—and his clothes looked more like something Xander would throw together than what Oz usually wears.  When I tried to get him to get me to stop thinking by kissing me, like he always does, he was acting all uncomfortable and weird.  When I asked him what was wrong, he said that he was just really beat from last night, but I’m not totally sure I buy that.  There’s just something weird going on with him.

            After I left Oz, I went to visit Xander ‘cause I always go to Xander when I’m confused; he helps make things all make sense again.  Besides, _way_ into guyville here; a place where Xander help is more a more helpful kind of help than Buffy help.  I told him that I noticed Oz and Veruca making eyes at each other and he told me to talk to Oz about it.  Strangely, it made sense when he said it.  Huh, go figure.  I guess I’ll do that, then.  Tomorrow.  When Oz is a little less hairy and man-eating.

 

Willow Danielle Rosenberg

 

**_November 24, 1999_ **

****

Dear Diary,

 

            Oh, my God.  Oh, my God.  I can‘t believe he did that to me!  I thought he loved me!!  How could he?  Was I not enough for him?  Was he bored with me?  I know I’m not as exciting as _her_ , Miss “I’m-a-skanky-wolf,” but did he have to sleep with her?  He says it was the only way, but there are a million ways he could have handled this better to keep her from hurting anyone else.  He could have told Giles or Buffy, for one.  Or at least me.  Doesn’t he trust me?  Doesn’t he know I’d never betray him or hurt him?  I love him.  I just don’t know if I can ever forgive him.

 

Willow Danielle Rosenberg

 

11-24-99

 

I fucked up.

 

Oz

 

Dear Diary,

 

            I can’t sleep.  Oz is still a wolf for the rest of the night, so I can’t even talk to him.

            Veruca’s dead.  Oz killed her to keep her from killing me.  It’s almost sweet in a sort of morbid way; he chose me over her.  I suppose if I had been able to finish the spell in the first place…but I guess I just love Oz too much.

 

Willow Danielle Rosenberg

 

**_November 25, 1999_ **

****

Dear Diary,

 

            Oz is gone.  Not dead gone, but gone as in not in Sunnydale.  He left this morning.  He would have left without telling me, but I stopped by to see him and happened to catch him first.  I tried to talk him out of it, but he was pretty adamant.  He said that he needed to figure out where the line between him and the wolf was before he could be around me.  I asked him if he loved me.  He said, “My whole life…I’ve never loved anyone else.”

            God, I love him.  I just want him to come back home, back to me.

 

Willow Danielle Rosenberg

 

 ** _January 2, 2000_ :**  Willow groaned as she leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet.  Being sick _sucked_.  And then there was the pounding in her head…no that was the door.  “Willow!  Are you okay?”  It was Buffy.

                “‘M fine,” Willow croaked out as Buffy burst in.

                Taking in Willow’s disheveled appearance, Buffy said, “No, you’re _not_ fine, Will.  You look awful.”

                “Feel awful,” mumbled Willow, closing her jade eyes tight.

                “Is this about Oz?” asked Buffy gently.

                Willow shook her head, instantly regretting the action.  “Head hurts.  Brain’s all mushy now,” Willow mumbled.

                Buffy pulled Willow up gently.  “C’mon, Will.  I’m taking you to the doctor’s.”

                “Mmkay,” mumbled Willow, slumping on Buffy and allowing herself to be led away.

 

                **_January 5, 2000_ :**  Willow had been deliberately avoiding her friends ever since her doctor’s appointment three days earlier.  The news she had received hadn’t been bad exactly, just surprising, but she found that she couldn’t avoid them any longer.  Like so many times before (and yet, so unlike any time before), she found herself sitting on Giles’ couch in his apartment, facing Xander, Buffy, Anya, and Giles himself, all waiting impatiently to hear that everything was okay.

                “So…” began Buffy, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

                “Is Willow going to tell us what’s wrong with her soon?” huffed Anya to Xander.  “I want to go back home so that you can give me lots of orgasms.”

                Giles began to clean his glasses furiously while Xander blushed.  “We talked about this, An,” Xander said quietly.

                Anya huffed.  “I don’t see what’s wrong with talking about se—”

                “I’m pregnant!” Willow blurted out, interrupting Anya.  Everyone—even Anya—stopped and stared at her.

                “What?!” croaked Xander.

                “She said she’s pregnant,” said Anya, rolling her eyes.

                “No I _heard_ ,” said Xander, shocked, “but this is _Willow_!  I mean, it’s _Willow_!  Our reliable dog-geyser person!”

                Willow huffed angrily.  “What do you _think_ Oz and I did every time I spent the night at his place?” she snapped.  “Bake cookies?”

                “Yes!” exclaimed Xander.  “I mean, you’re _Willow_.”  The way he said her name made it sound as if that explained everything.

                “Of _course_ she’s Willow,” said Anya, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.  “Who else would she be?”

                “A-are you quite sure, Willow?” asked Giles gently, ignoring the bickering couple.

                “That’s what the doctor tells me,” replied Willow.

                “How far along are you?” asked Buffy excitedly.

                “About two months,” replied Willow.

                “Oh my God, that’s so awesome, Wills!” squealed Buffy, hugging Willow tight.

                “Thanks, Buffy,” said Willow gratefully.  “I’m glad you think so, cause I think it’s pretty great.  I mean, I’m pretty excited—and _completely_ scared out of my mind.  What am I gonna do, Buffy?” Willow babbled nervously.  “I mean, Oz is gone and I have no idea how to get a hold of him or anything and—oh God, I’m gonna have to be a single mom, won’t I?  Unless Oz comes back—do you think he’s coming back?  I mean, I _really_ want him to come back, and not just cause of the baby.  I really miss him, you know.  I mean, I know he said—”

                “Willow!  Breathe!” said Buffy, covering Willow’s mouth with her hand.  Once Willow obliged, Buffy removed her hand.  “Good girl.”

                “Sorry,” said Willow sheepishly.  “Oz is the one who’s supposed to shut me up when I do that.  Not that he ever did, cause he said he loved it when I babbled and—”

                “Will!  You’re doing it again.”

                “Sorry,” Willow said sheepishly.

                “Look,” said Buffy seriously, “I know you miss him, but you need to get out of this slump thing you’ve been in, if not for you then for your baby.  I have every faith that Oz will come back eventually—I’ve seen how much he loves you—but you need to prepare yourself for the worst case scenario here.”  Willow nodded resignedly.

                “Willow,” Giles said gently, “I hate to bring this up, but you need to research any possible effects that Oz’s lycanthropy may have on the baby.”

                Willow started.  “Oh God,” she said, jade eyes wide.  “I didn’t even think of that!  Giles—”

                “I’d be glad to help you research this, dear girl,” said Giles, squeezing Willow’s shoulder reassuringly.

                “Thanks Giles,” said Willow gratefully.  “Well, let’s get cracking then.  Anya and Xander can go on a doughnut run and the three of us can start looking up anything we can find on lycanthropy.”  Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her again.  “ _Now_ people!” said Willow, putting her hand on her petite hips and putting on her resolve face.  “This is my resolve face,” she said.  “You all know what that means.  Move it!  We’ve only got about seven months tops till this baby gets here.  Let’s go!”

 

**_April 18, 2000_ **

****

Dear Diary,

 

            Oz is back.  He’s back!  He just showed up today while we were having a Scooby meeting.  Buffy told me afterward that they had to fill in Tara and Riley about Oz (minus the whole werewolf thing); my mind was too much stuck on Oz to process anything other than the fact that he’s back.

            He’s coming to see me later so we can talk.

            I’m still mad at him for leaving me and getting me pregnant.

            I love him so much.

 

Willow Danielle Rosenberg

 

**_April 19, 2000_ **

****

Dear Diary,

           

            Oh, my God!  Last night was a full moon _and Oz didn’t change_!  He did it!!  It’s not a cure, per say—he’s still technically a werewolf—but he doesn’t have to change under the full moon!  Oz and I stayed up all night talking about anything and everything…except the baby.  I’m just thankful he hasn’t noticed yet.  I’m not quite ready to tell him about _that_.  I mean, what if he up and leaves us again?  I don’t want to think about that, but I’m going to be a mom soon; I have to start putting the baby’s welfare first. 

 

Willow Danielle Rosenberg

 

Willow sat alone in her and Buffy’s dorm, clutching her stuffed wolf (Prince Charming was his name—she was such a hopeless romantic) tightly to her chest.  As she sat there thinking about Oz and the baby, Buffy walked into the room, carrying her bag.

                “Hey,” Buffy said in greeting.

                “Hey,” replied Willow.  “You okay?”

                Buffy rubbed her neck in frustration.  “Yeah,” she lied.  “I just—I don’t wanna talk about it.  I wanna hear about you and Oz.  You saw him, right?”

                “I was with him all night,” replied Willow with a smile.

                Buffy raised her eyebrows at her best friend.  “All night?” she said, grinning happily.  “Oh my God.”  She sat down with Willow on her bed.  “Wait.”  Her face suddenly fell as realization hit her.  “Last night was a wolf moon, right?”

                “Yup.”

                “Either you’re about to tell me something _incredibly_ kinky, or—”

                “No kink,” Willow said, smiling.  “He didn’t change, Buffy.  He said he was gonna find a cure and he did.  In Tibet.”

                Buffy smiled back at her.  “Oh my God.  I can’t believe it,” she said happily.  “So…did you tell him?”

                “About Oz Jr.?” said Willow.  Buffy nodded.  “No, not yet.”

                “Why not?” asked Buffy.

                “I-I’m not ready,” Willow admitted.  “I wanna make sure he’s not gonna just up and bail again before I tell him.  I don’t want our baby to be the only reason he sticks around.”

                “Will—”

                “I know, I should tell him anyway, but—”

                “You don’t wanna get hurt again,” said Buffy knowingly.

                “Yeah,” said Willow with a sigh.  “And I couldn’t take it if he rejected the baby.  Does that make me a bad person, Buffy?”

                “No,” Buffy reassured her.  “Absolutely not.  It makes you a good mom, putting the baby first, before everything else, even your personal feelings.”

                “Really?” said Willow hopefully.

                “Really.”

 

**_April 20, 2000_ **

****

4-20-00

 

            I never want to go through something like that again.  Yesterday I smelled Willow all over her new friend Tara and I guess I completely lost it because I changed into the wolf—without the moon.  My memories are pretty fuzzy at that point, up until I woke up groggy and in a massive amount of pain in some kind of underground compound with people in white lab coats poking and prodding the hell out of me.  I was in and out of it again for several hours (I’m told—I don’t actually remember much of what happened there) until Riley came to rescue me.  Then Willow, Buffy, and Xander came to help Riley rescue me.

            I found out later that Riley is part of a group called the Initiative, which is a military research group that studies demons and the supernatural.  A group of the soldiers had apparently captured me when I wolfed out, and as soon as Riley knew who I was he tried to help me out.  I hope I never have to go through anything like that again.  Hell.  On.  Earth.

            I can’t stay here anymore; just being around Willow apparently makes me wolf out.  I have to keep her safe.  She’s my everything.

 

Oz

 

Oz and Willow sat together in silence in Oz’s van.  The previous night had been spent recuperating (Oz) and talking to friends (Willow), so they hadn’t really had a chance to really talk about what had happed on the last day of the full moon yet.  “This thing looks pretty good, considering you drove it overseas,” Willow finally said, breaking the silence.

                Oz didn’t look at her as he spoke.  “Well it broke down outside of Mexico and I traded my bass to have it fixed and garaged,” he said.  He paused for a moment, “I shouldn’t have come back now,” he said, “…I just thought I’d changed.”

                “You _have_ changed,” said Willow, smiling at him.  “You stopped the wolf from coming out.  I saw it.”

                “But I couldn’t look at you.”  He still couldn’t.  “I mean, it turns out…the one thing that brings it out in me is you…which falls under the heading of ironic in my book.”

                “It was my fault.  I upset you,” insisted Willow.

                Oz finally looked at her.  “Well, so we’re safe then,” he said sarcastically, “cause you’ll never do _that_ again.”  Willow tried to look amused, but failed.  “But…you’re happy?” asked Oz seriously.

                Willow paused, then answered slowly, “No, I’m really not.”  Oz looked at her curiously, so Willow elaborated.  “You see,” she explained, “you’re _Oz_ , and I’ve been _unbelievably_ miserable without you.  I love _you_ , Oz, more than anything I’ve ever loved in my life.  It’s like…you’re my heart and soul and when you’re gone, it-it feels like part of me is missing.”

                “But Tara…”

                “Is just a good friend,” Willow said gently.  “I’ve been spending tons of time with her lately cause Xander’s all busy being with Anya, and Buffy with Riley.  And yeah, _she_ has a crush on _me_ , but trust me when I say that _you_ are my one and only, Oz.”

                “So…you and Tara…”

                “Are not so much with the me-and-Tara,” said Willow.  “Non me-and-Tara, actually.  Only me-and-you, Oz.  Now and forever, if you’ll still have me.”

                “Willow—”

                “What are you gonna do?” she asked, interrupting him.

                “I think I better take off,” said Oz softly, dreading his impending departure, but believing it was for the best.

                “When?” asked Willow, her face expressionless.

                “Pretty much now.” 

Willow nodded.  “I was afraid you’d say that.”  Tears in her eyes at the thought of losing him again, she leaned over and hugged him tight.  Suddenly she pulled back.  “I’m going with you, Oz,” she stated firmly.

                “Willow…” he said, sighing, “I’m no good for you.  All I do is hurt you and jump to crazy illogical conclusions.  I don’t deserve you; you deserve so much more than I can give you.”              

                Willow snorted in a very unladylike manner.  “Don’t you _dare_ pull an ‘Angel’ on me, Daniel Julius Osborne!” she snapped.  “I love you so much, Oz.  If you leave me behind again, you’ll destroy me.”  Oz looked ready to protest, but Willow held up her hand to silence him.  “I’ve already packed my bags, loaded them into your van, and said my goodbyes,” she told him.  “I’m all yours.  We can go search for a cure that doesn’t make you wolf out when you’re under extreme emotional stress and we can search for our birth parents.  Together.  Just like we talked about all summer.”  She put on her resolve face.  “You know what this is, mister, and you know what it means.”

                Oz finally gave in, finding himself no match for Willow’s infamous resolve face.  “When do you want to leave?” he asked.

                “Pretty much now,” said Willow, quirking a smile as she stole Oz’s line.

                Oz planted a tender kiss on Willow’s lips.  “Let’s go,” he said, smiling.

                “You and me, Oz,” she said happily.  “Always and forever, right?”

                “Always and forever, Willow.  I promise.”

 

                **_April 21, 2000_ :** Oz was lounging on the hotel bed reading a book (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis) when Willow got out of the shower.  The newly reunited couple had been on the road for over twenty-four hours before they finally stopped in Chicago a few hours ago.  Funny thing was, for all their conversations on the road, Willow had yet to mention her pregnancy to Oz.  _Well, there’s nothing to it,_ she told herself; it was long past time to tell Oz.

                Summoning her courage, Willow padded softly over to the bed wearing a pair of navy blue moon and star print pajama pants and an old, white, overlarge Dingoes t-shirt.  Taking a deep breath, she said, “Oz, I have something I have to tell you.”

                Oz put down his care-worn book and patted the bed beside him.  “Come sit,” he invited.  “I’m all ears.”

                Willow shook her head.  “I-if I sit down next to you my brain will go all mushy and my heart will go all thumpy and I’ll never tell you what I have to tell you cause I’ll be so stuck on you.”

                Oz furrowed his brow worriedly.  “Is it something bad, then?”

                “N-no,” she stammered.  “A-at least _I_ don’t think it’s bad…”

                “Then what are you so worried about, Wills?”

                “I’m worried that you’ll be upset,” she admitted timidly.

                “Why would I be upset?” he asked her, puzzled.

                “Cause I’m pregnant and I never told you!” Willow blurted out unintentionally, instantly slapping her hands over her mouth, her eyes flying wide open in shock.

                Silence.  “Pregnant?” 

Willow couldn’t tell what he was thinking.  “Y-yes.”

                “How long?”

                “I’m five months,” she told him nervously.

                “And that’s why you’ve been all avoidy since I came back?” he said.  Willow nodded.  “Why?” he asked.

                “Cause I thought you might be mad at me or not want me back or not want the baby or something crazy like that.”

                “Willow, I love you,” said Oz firmly.  “And even though you only just now told me, I already love the baby too.”

                “Really?”  Willow’s eyes were full of hope.

                “Really.  So…I’d still, if you’d still.”

                Willow smiled widely at him.  “I’d still.  I’d very still.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Read & Comment! Comments help to calm the raging beasts that are my plot-dragons. Please no flames. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 1: Good Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow and Oz settle into the Wizarding World and Willow gets a new job.

** Chapter 1: Good Life **

  
_“Gotta get me out of the junkyard heap_  
 _Kicking back in marigold summertime dream_  
 _It's a good, good life, we got the good life_  
 _Falling in love under the raspberry sun_  
 _Turn up the stereo, baby have some fun_  
 _It's a good, good life, we got the good life”_  
  
_-“Good Life” by Leslie Mills from What a Girl Wants_

 

                **_June 29, 2001_ :**  Willow sat calmly in The Three Broomsticks pub in the small wizarding town of Hogsmeade, waiting for a wizard by the name of Albus Dumbledore.  She was dressed in a professional black, thigh-length skirt and a forest-green, short-sleeved blouse, the top few buttons of which were undone so that her gold willow tree pendant was clearly visible.  She brushed a stray strand of her straight, shoulder-length red hair out of her face and tapped the toe of her forest-green high-heels on the wood floor impatiently.

                It wasn’t that she was particularly busy today—hence the job interview—it was just that she would rather be spending her free time with Oz and their beautiful, redheaded ten-month-old daughter Lily putting together their new apartment.  The small family had only arrived back in London a week ago (they had spent two months there previously when Willow had Lily) and they were still working on moving in.

                Oz and Willow had been traveling the world, searching for a cure for Oz’s lycanthropy, since they had left Sunnydale back in April of 2000.  They had spent some time in Tibet before Lily was born, before heading off to London for her impending birth.  That September, the young couple and their newborn daughter had spent a few weeks in Egypt, where they met an interesting trio of magic-users who told them all about a secret community that was just for witches, wizards, and other magical beings.  Intrigued by their stories, Oz and Willow learned all they could about this new and exciting world from the other young couple, and African wizard named Chase Chance and his black English wife Mya, and their redheaded friend (whose hair rivaled Willow’s in color) Bill Weasley.

                At the trio’s direction, Oz, Willow, and baby Lily left the Gringotts (the wizarding bank) employees and began to travel the _wizarding_ world.  Along the way, both Willow and Oz picked up wands (willow, ten inches, with dragon heartstring for Willow and willow, eleven inches, with a griffin feather for Oz) and began to learn magic using their new wands.  They also followed a couple of leads they received on a potion to help werewolves as they traveled this new and exciting world.  Having finally traced the elusive potion to somewhere in the UK, Willow and Oz decided that it was time to settle down.  So Oz went out to find an apartment for them while Willow contacted Giles (who, the previous winter, had confessed to being a wizard himself) for the job contact information he had promised her over their Christmas/Chanukah celebration.  Since they were finally setting down, Oz decided to begin searching in earnest for his birth parents, as well as starting up his own band.

                Which is how Willow found herself at The Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade, waiting for Albus Dumbledore (the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) to arrive and interview her for a teaching position at Hogwarts.  She was getting rather impatient and was seconds away from getting up and leaving, saying “screw the interview,” when an old, kind-looking man with half-moon spectacles who radiated power stepped into the pub.

                Spotting the pixie-like redhead sitting alone, the old man walked right up to her.  “Miss Rosenberg, I presume,” he said kindly, a twinkle present in his clear blue eyes.

                “Yes, sir,” Willow replied, holding out her hand to shake his.  “May I assume you are Professor Dumbledore, then?”

                “Please call me Albus, my dear,” said Dumbledore kindly.

                “As long as you call me Willow,” she replied with a smile.

                “Of course, my dear,” said Dumbledore.  Offering his arm to her he added, “Shall we adjourn to the sitting room to discuss my offer in more detail?”

                Willow took his arm willingly.  “Lead on, Albus,” she sad, smiling happily up at him.

 

                “So basically you want me to be an assistant teacher for this Defense Against the Dark Arts class.”

                “That is correct, Miss Rosenberg,” confirmed Professor Dumbledore.  “This is not the first time Hogwarts has had an assistant professor in a subject, but it has been so long that many have forgotten that it is, in fact, allowed.  My hope is that by giving you an assistant professorship instead of a full one, you will have the opportunity to pass on your own knowledge to the students while at the same time learning more about wand magic and the wizarding world.  I believe you will become a stronger witch for it.”

                “I have to admit, the offer sounds wonderful, Albus,” said Willow wistfully.

                “But…” said Dumbledore knowingly.

                “No, no buts,” said Willow.  “More like an ‘uh-oh’ or maybe a ‘how’s this gonna work.’  No buts, though.”

                “What are your concerns, my dear?” asked Albus kindly.

                “Well,” she said, fidgeting nervously, “there’s kinda three days a month I’m gonna need to have off.”

                “Oh?” said Albus, raising a questioning eyebrow.

                “Yeah,” said Willow, “you see my boyfriend has this— _condition_ —and I kinda need to be around to take care of our daughter while he can’t.  Plus, I really hate to leave him alone for those days; he gets all gloomy and he’s even more laconic and monosyllabic than he usually is and—”

                “How old is your daughter, Willow?” interrupted Albus, effectively stopping her babbling.

                “Oh, she’s ten months old,” said Willow happily.  “She’s so cute and she’s really, _really_ smart and—”

                “How long has your boyfriend been a werewolf?”

                “About five years,” replied Willow without thinking.  Suddenly realizing what she had said, she gasped and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.  “Can we just pretend I didn’t say that?” she said nervously.  “I know you wizarding types are, like, uber-prejudice against werewolves—though I really don’t understand why; I mean, they’re human all but three nights a month—but I love him and I really need a job and I’m not gonna leave him cause he’s so wonderful and sweet and he’s all stoic and monosyllabic, but that just makes him even _more_ cute and—”

                “Willow!” said Dumbledore sharply, causing her to jump a little.

                “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.  “I tend to babble when I’m nervous.”

                Dumbledore chuckled pleasantly.  “It’s quite alright, my dear,” he said.  “Now, as far as werewolf-prejudice goes, I believe that you will find that not everyone subscribes to it, myself included.  The only reason I brought it up at all is because I have a proposition for you involving your boyfriend.”

                “Oh?” said Willow, raising her eyebrow curiously.  “And what might that be?”

                “Have you ever heard of the Wolfsbane potion, my dear?” the headmaster asked.

                Willow shook her head.  “Can’t say that I have.  What’s it do?” she asked curiously.

                Albus steeped his fingers and explained, “Wolfsbane is a potion that, when taken by a werewolf during the week leading up to the full moon, will allow said wolf to keep his human mind when he transforms.”

                Willow blinked once, twice.  “You’re serious?” she said cautiously.  “This potion is for real?  ‘Cause Oz and I have run into a lot of hoaxy potions and ‘cures’ in the last two years and if this is another one of them then—”

                “I am quite serious, my dear,” Dumbledore interrupted, a small smile on his lips.

                “I-I mean, we’d _heard_ —there were rumors—but we never—this is for real?”

                “Indeed, Willow,” replied the headmaster.  “What I’m offering you is, as part of your salary, access to the Wolfsbane potion for your boyfriend and—if he needs it—a safe place to transform as well.”

                “A-and this-this—this is really real?”

                “Of course, Willow,” replied Dumbledore.  “I _would_ suggest testing the potion over the summer, of course, just to be on the safe side, but everyone else who has used it has nothing but praise for it.”

                “This-this—This is just _amazing_ ,” said Willow in awe.  “I mean— _wow_.”

                “So, do you accept the job then, Miss Rosenberg?”

                “Of course!” the petite redhead exclaimed.  “I _will_ have to talk to Oz—my boyfriend—about the potion before we decide on _that_ —cause it’s for him, you know—but either way I’ll _definitely_ take the job.”

                “Wonderful,” said Albus cheerfully.  “Has Rupert explained owl post to you yet?”

                “Giles didn’t, but some wizards we met in Egypt last fall did,” replied Willow.

                “Ah, excellent,” said Dumbledore.  “Well, do talk to your boyfriend about the Wolfsbane and owl me with an answer as soon as possible.  I will make sure he gets some for the coming moon, if that’s what he chooses.”

                “Thank you, sir,” said Willow gratefully.  “You have _no_ idea how much this means to me—to _us_ , really.”

                “Think nothing of it, my dear,” he replied.  “I will owl you when the Defense professor sends me his book list and lesson plans, my dear.  I shall await you owl as well.  Barring any complications, I shall see you on September 1st.  Please do let me know if you need any help finding your way around the wizarding world.”

                “Well, actually, I _do_ need to go to the Ministry soon,” said Willow.  “I was hoping to take my apparition test; I’ve been studying for it all summer.”

                “Let me know when and I can have someone take you there, if you’d like,” Albus offered kindly.

                “Thank you, Albus.  I’ll be sure to do that.”

                Both parties stood up and shook hands.  “It was wonderful meeting you, Willow,” said Albus, smiling at the redheaded witch in front of him.  “I look forward to working with you this year.”

                “The same to you, Albus,” replied Willow, returning his smile.  “I’ll see you on September 1st.”  
                “Take care, Willow.  I look forward to meeting your lovely family as well.”

                “Of course,” replied Willow.  “You take care too, Headmaster.”

 

                Willow stepped into the small, sparsely furnished apartment and gave a sigh of contentment.  “Honey, I’m home,” she called out cheerfully as she slipped off her high-heels and hung up her jacket.

                “Mama!”  Willow was practically bowled over by the blur of red and green that was her baby girl.  “Mama home!”

                “Yes, baby.  Mama’s home,” said Willow, picking her daughter up and hugging her.  “How’s my Lily-Cub today?  Were you good for Daddy?”

                Lily nodded her little head, her bright red hair (brighter even than Willow’s) flopping adorably across her face as she turned her bright emerald green eyes (neither Willow nor Oz knew where _that_ particular shade of green came from) solemnly on her mother and said, “Ly goo fo Dada.”

                “You were, were you?” teased Willow as she readjusted Lily’s emerald green sundress, her own jade eyes sparkling with mirth.  “And is Daddy gonna say the same thing?”

                “Of course,” said Oz, stepping out of the kitchen.  “My princess was a little angel today.”

                “Oh really?” teased Willow.

                “Yes, really,” replied Oz.  He came over and gave his girlfriend a peck on the cheek.  “And how was your day?”

                Willow smiled at her favorite lycanthrope.  He had changed a lot since Lily’s birth.  Though he still presented his stoic, unflappable, monosyllabic front to the world, when it was just him, Willow, and Lily he truly opened up.  “My day was wonderful,” she said.

                Oz arched his eyebrow at her.  “You got the job?” he asked.

                “I got the job!” squealed Willow, hugging Oz tight.

                “Mama an Dada tush Ly!” squeaked Lily, who was being sandwiched between her parents.

                “Sorry Lily-Cub,” said Oz, fondly ruffling Lily’s long, red hair.  “You okay?”

                “Ly otay,” she confirmed, sticking her tiny thumb in her mouth.

                “You’ll tell me later?” asked Oz, turning his attention back to Willow.

                “Yeah, after Lily’s in b-e-d,” said Willow.  “There’s something else I think you’re really gonna like too.”

                “Oh?” said Oz, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

                “Yup,” said Willow, refusing to divulge anything else.  “Did you get dinner?  I’m starving.”

                “Ly hunwy!” piped in Lily.

                “I got pizza,” said Oz.  “That okay?”

                “Yay!  Za!  Za!”

                Willow chuckled.  “I think that’s a yes,” she said.

                “Well, let’s go eat then,” said Oz, leading his girls to the kitchen.

                “Za! Za!  Yum za!” chanted Lily.

 

                After Lily was put to bed, Willow and Oz sat down on the floor in the living room, Willow lying with her head on Oz’s lap as he leaned against the wall and stroked her fiery locks lovingly.  “You were gonna tell me about your interview,” said Oz.

                Willow smiled.  “I’m the new assistant Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” she said.

                “That’s great, Will,” said Oz, smiling widely at the love of his life.

                “Mm-hm,” she said, “and there’s more.”

                “Oh?”

                “Yup.  Albus—the headmaster—told me about this potion that will let you keep you human mind when you’re the wolf.”

                Oz stilled.  “Is that—is it—”

                “It’s real, Oz,” said Willow.  “It really works.  Albus offered to provide you with the potion as part of my salary and he said that he has a safe place where you can transform, if you need it, and he said that you can try it over the summer and—”

                “Willow,” said Oz, covering her full, pink lips gently, “I’ll do it.”

                “Really?”

                “Why not?” said Oz, shrugging.  “It’s worth a shot.”

                “Yay,” said Willow, giving him a quick peck on the lips.  “I’ll owl Albus first thing in the morning.  So… how was your day?”

                “Lily and I went to the zoo.  She particularly enjoyed the wolves.”

                Willow chuckled.  “Of course she did,” she said fondly.

                “We also made up posters for the band I wanna put together.  I figured I’d put them up when we go to that wizard alley place Bill and the Chances told us about.”

                “Sounds good.”

                “Then Lily and I stopped by the Lawrence Adoption Center.”

                “Oh?” said Willow, quirking her eyebrow at him.  “How’d that go?”

                “Not too bad,” replied Oz.  “They gave me all the info they had on my birth parents.”

                “So have you looked at it yet?”

                “No,” replied Oz.  “I’m not quite ready.  Maybe in a few days.”

                “You sure?”

                “Positive.”

                There was silence.  “Do you want me to be there when you take a look at it?” asked Willow.

                “That’d be nice,” replied Oz, his pale face flooding with relief.

                “Whatever happens, Lily and I will always be there for you, baby,” said Willow.

                “I’m so glad you didn’t let me leave you back in Sunnydale, Willow,” said Oz as he began to nod off against the wall.

                “Me too, Oz,” said Willow.  “Me too.”

 

                **_July 7, 2001_ :**  As soon as the sun had risen on the morning after the final day of the July full moon, Willow made her way into the spare room that had been converted into a safe room for Oz’s transformations.  When she approached the caged off portion of the room, she was pleased to note that human Oz was sleeping peacefully, curled up in a position that was so wolfish that Willow couldn’t help but smile. 

As Willow stood watching Oz sleep, the musically-inclined lycanthrope cracked open a stormy blue eye and caught her gaze.  “Morning,” said Willow.  “How was your night?  Did the potion work?”

                Oz blinked the sleep out of his eyes, sat up slowly, and stretched leisurely.  Last night had been the final night of the first full moon cycle he had taken the Wolfsbane potion, so he quickly took stock of himself, searching for any injuries or unusual pains.  “It seems it worked pretty good,” he finally said.  “Can I have my pants now, please?”

                Willow giggled.  “It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before,” she teased.  Oz simply stared at her.  “Oh, fine, ruin my fun,” she huffed.  She unlocked the cage door and handed him his pants.  “When you’re cleaned up and dressed, come to the kitchen.  I’m making pancakes this morning.”

                “And sausage?” asked Oz.

                “Of course,” said Willow with a smile.  “Now, go clean up and get dressed.”

                “Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

                Willow rolled her eyes.  “Just go, you silly wolf, or no sausage for you.”

                “You wouldn’t,” gasped Oz.

                “Try me.”  Seeing Willow’s infamous resolve face, Oz took off down the hall to the bathroom as quickly as he could.  “Works every time,” Willow said to herself once she heard the door close behind him.

 

                After they had finished eating Oz and Willow remained seated at the kitchen table.  “What time do we have to pick Lily up from the Carters?” asked Oz, referring to the elderly couple two floors down who had been helping them out with Lily when they needed a sitter.

                “Not ‘til ten,” replied Willow.  “Are you gonna look at the papers?”

                “Yeah,” replied Oz.  “I left them in the bedroom.”

                “I’ll go get them,” said Willow, jumping up from the table. 

She returned less than a minute later holding a rather thin manila folder.  “Thanks Will,” said Oz, taking the folder from her.  He slowly opened it up and began to shift through the papers.

                Willow and Oz sat in silence as he leafed through the folder.  Finally Willow couldn’t take it anymore.  “So?  What’s it say” she asked.

                “My birth mom’s dead,” he said.  “Apparently she and her husband were killed twelve years ago.”

                “And your dad?” asked Willow.

                Oz flicked through the papers.  “He’s still alive,” he said after a moment.  “It’s even got all his current contact information.”

                “Do you want me to get Cocoa so you can write to him?” asked Willow.  They had purchased the barn owl a few days earlier when the groundskeeper of Hogwarts—a half-giant by the name of Hagrid—had taken them to Diagon Alley.  “Is he even a wizard?”

                “Yeah, he’s magical.  So was my mom.  It says so in here—apparently Lawrence caters specifically to the magical community.  And that’d be great—if you could get Cocoa, that is,” said Oz, walking over to their computer desk and grabbing some paper and a pen.

                “I’ll be back in a minute,” called Willow as she ran off to find their tawny owl.  Oz simply grunted in response; it was far too early for all of this, especially the morning after a full moon.

 

                Remus Lupin groaned as he was woken from his deep post-moon sleep by an annoying tapping on his window.  He tried to ignore it—he always found himself a bit ill, worn-out, wounded, and tired the first few days after the full moon—but to no avail.  He groaned again and opened his amber eyes, squinting at the harsh afternoon light.  The tapping was really getting on his nerves.  He glanced over at the small basement window to see a tawny brown owl tapping on the glass.  “I’m up, I’m up,” he groaned, pulling his beaten and bloody body up off of the cement floor. 

Remus made to stand, but found that he couldn’t.  Apparently he had broken his leg sometime during the night.  He’d had worse full moons since that fateful night in 1989, when he’d lost almost all of his friends in one fell swoop, but he’d definitely had better too.  Heaving a sigh of frustrated resignation, he began to pull himself along the stone wall of the basement to the high shelf where he kept his wand and clothes during the full moon.

                He had just pulled on his pajama pants and was contemplating how he was going to make it up the stairs when he heard the basement door creak open.  He looked up to see a familiar pair of twinkling blue eyes staring kindly at him. 

“Good afternoon, Remus,” said Albus Dumbledore, walking down the stairs and making his way over to him.  “How are you this morning, my dear boy?”

                “Not too bad, Albus,” Remus replied. He couldn’t quite suppress a wince when the headmaster’s hand accidentally brushed against a particularly bad gash on his side as he moved to help Remus walk.

                “Really?” said Albus as Remus winced again, this time from putting too much weight on his bad leg.

                “Okay, so I think my leg is broken,” admitted Remus, leaning heavily on the much older wizard as he helped him up the stairs, “but I’ve had worse, honestly.”

                “I know you have, my boy,” said Albus as he led the werewolf to the couch and helped him sit down.  “Now, you just sit tight and read the post that lovely owl brought you while I floo-call Poppy to come patch you up,” he instructed Remus, handing him a small stack of letters.

                “Thank you, Albus,” said Remus.  He had long ago given up on trying to push the meddlesome headmaster of Hogwarts away, so he simply took the post and began to look through it.

 _The Daily Prophet_ , monthly letters from Jessi and Regina (two of his few remaining non-imprisoned Hogwarts friends), bills from St. Mungo’s for June—that full moon had been absolutely horrific—and May, a notice for termination from his job at Gudgeon & Thomas Books (a small bookstore in Diagon Alley run solely by Davey Gudgeon, Samuel Thomas having mysteriously disappeared years ago), several other random letters—most likely hate mail or death threats from previous employers and those they had informed of his monthly “condition”—from unfamiliar/anonymous names, and—

                “Albus, what’s this?” asked Remus, holding up a thick envelope addressed in emerald green ink and sealed with the familiar Hogwarts crest ( _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_ —Never tickle a sleeping dragon).

                “Hmm,” said Albus, his eyes twinkling more than usual.  “Why don’t you open it and see for yourself, my boy?”

                Remus obliged with a suspicious look and read:

 

 **HOGWARTS** **SCHOOL**

 _of_ **WITCHCRAFT** _and_ **WIZARDRY**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

( _Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards_ )

 

               _Dear Mr. Lupin,_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is pleased to extend to you an offer of employment for the school year of 2001-2002.  We find ourselves, once again, in dire need of a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  We feel that you are extremely qualified for this position and we would therefore like to extend to you this prestigious chance to contribute to the education of the children of the wizarding world.  Children are our future, after all._

_In addition to your salary, which we will discuss once you accept this offer, we are willing to provide you with the recently discovered Wolfsbane potion.  This potion will allow you, as a werewolf, to keep your human mind while transformed.  This should help to alleviate your fear of harming the students and staff.  The staff will, of course, be informed of your condition, but the students will not.  In case of an emergency, the Shrieking Shack remains safe and available for your transformations.  Once you accept, we will begin sending you the Wolfsbane potion post haste so that you may become accustomed to it before term starts on September 1 st._

_For the first time in many years, we have hired an assistant Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to help with your class.  We hope that this will ease your guilt of having to leave your students every month.  We would also like to offer you the chance to privately tutor a young witch who is just learning about our world.  We are willing to pay you extra for this service._

_Please reply by owl no later than 1 August with your answer.  We look forward to working with you this coming year and we are more than willing to address any further concerns or questions you may have as well as any precautions you may deem necessary for the safety of the faculty, the students, and for your own peace of mind.  Please enclose with your response a tentative book list._

_Best wishes,_

                Albus Dumbledore

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

 

Remus was speechless.  “Albus,” he said, “is this some kind of hoax?”

                Albus sat down in the worn armchair across from the lycanthrope.  “I assure you, my dear boy, this is most definitely _not_ a hoax.  I would not be so cruel as to do that to you, you know that.”

                “But how—why—I don’t—I’m a bloody _werewolf_ , for Merlin’s sake, Albus!”

                “Yes, I’m quite aware of that fact, Remus,” said Albus.  “You’ve been a werewolf for thirty years now—”

                “Thirty-one last month,” Remus corrected automatically.

                Albus gave a small, sad smile.  “Yes, indeed,” he said.  “My point exactly.  You’ve been a werewolf for longer than I have know you, Remus.  You’ve dealt wonderfully with your condition for so long, my boy.  Tell me something, Remus: have you ever _once_ killed anyone in your wolf form?”

                “Of _course_ not!” said Remus.

                “And have you ever bitten anyone?” asked Albus.

                “No!” said Remus.  “But I don’t see—”

                “That’s a lot more than most werewolves can say, especially when they’ve been afflicted for as long as you have, my dear boy,” said Albus.  “You should be proud of yourself that you are able to say that you haven’t.  I know that _I_ am proud of you.”

                Remus’s resolve fell.  “Even still, Albus,” he protested, “I couldn’t possibly—what if something _did_ happen?  I’d _never_ forgive myself.”

                “You managed wonderfully while you were in school,” Albus reminded him.  “You are a very responsible young man and I have every faith in your ability to continue to manage you condition just as wonderfully as a professor, especially with the help of the Wolfsbane potion.”

                “Albus I—wait, what exactly _is_ this Wolfsbane potion?”

                Albus’s eyes twinkled merrily behind his half-moon spectacles.  “I had hoped you would ask, my boy,” he said.  “This particular potion will allow you to retain your human mind during your transformations, making you virtually harmless and far less violent to yourself and less of a threat to others.”

                Remus frowned.  He opened his mouth once, twice, as if to say something, but changed his mind before he did.  Finally he spoke.  “You’re _really_ making it difficult for me to refuse your offer,” he grumbled.

                Albus chuckled.  “That’s the idea, my boy,” he said.  “So, will you accept the job or do I have to search the world over for another semi-competent Defense professor?”

                “It seems I have no choice in the matter,” said Remus, a hint of humor in his voice.

                “You accept then?” persisted Albus.

                Remus rolled his amber eyes and shoved his shaggy, sandy, graying hair out of his face.  “Yes, Albus, I accept,” he said.

                “Wonderful,” said Albus, clapping his hands together as he stood up.  “Now, Poppy will be arriving any minute now.  I’ll just go outside and wait for her; you sit tight, my boy.”

                “Like I can go anywhere anyway,” Remus grumbled half-heartedly.  Albus simply chuckled as he left the room.  “I swear that man has spies,” Remus muttered to himself as he began to sort through his hate mail while he waited for Poppy to arrive and heal him.

 

                **_July 10, 2001_ :** “Dada!” called Lily, running through the hall to the kitchen. “Cocoa ada winnow!”

                “Cocoa’s at the window?” said Oz, translating Lily-speak to make sure he understood her.

                “Ya,” affirmed Lily, staring up at her black-haired father as she played with the end of her long, red braid.  “Cocoa tum bat wiva weddew!”

                “Show Dada,” prompted Oz as he set down the macaroni box (Willow had gone to Diagon Alley to get supplies for her new job, so Oz was left in charge of Lily and her lunch).

                Lily grabbed Oz’s large, calloused hand and tugged him down the hallway to her bedroom.  “See!” she said pointing to her window.  “Cocoa ada winnow.”

                “Should we let her in, then?” asked Oz, quirking an eyebrow at his tiny daughter.

                “Ya,” said Lily, nodding her little head.  “Dada wet Cocoa in-sy.”

                Oz walked over and opened the window, allowing Cocoa to fly in.  The owl landed on Oz’s head and held out her leg for him to remove the attached letter.  After he removed it, Cocoa flew over and perched Lily’s head, causing the little girl to giggle incessantly. 

“Dada, Ly pway wiv Cocoa?” she asked, giving Oz her best puppy dog face.

                “Sure, Lily-Cub,” said Oz with a smile.  “Why don’t you give her some water?  I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

                “Tay Dada!  Fanks!” called Lily, skipping off to the bathroom with the tawny owl flying after her.  Oz shook his head and smiled as he made his way back to the kitchen. 

Once the noodles were cooking, he sat down at the table and opened his letter:

 

_Daniel,_

_I honestly never thought I’d ever hear from you, though I’m quite glad to be wrong for once.  I’d love to meet you in person and I look forward to seeing you.  I’ll meet you at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade on Saturday, October 6 th at noon._

_Feel free to owl me whenever you like—I’ll be changing residences shortly, but your owl will be able to find me wherever I am.  I’ll see you soon._

_Best Regards,_

_Your Father_

 

                “Huh,” said Oz, once he had finished reading.  “That’s cool.”

                “Waz coo, Dada?” asked Lily, coming into the kitchen alone.

                “Dada’s gonna meet Grandpa soon.”

                “Coo,” said Lily, not really understanding, but happy for her father nonetheless.

                “Yeah, Lily-Cub, it really is.”


	3. Chapter 2: Wake Me Up When September Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow makes a friend at the Welcome Feast.

** Chapter 2: Wake Me up When September Ends **

_“As my memory rests_  
_but never forgets what I lost_  
 _wake me up when September ends_  
  
_Summer has come and passed_  
 _the innocent can never last_  
 _wake me up when September ends”_

_-“Wake Me up When September Ends” by Green Day_

 

                **_September 1, 2001_ :**  Willow tumbled clumsily out of the fireplace into the headmaster’s office.  She quickly picked herself up and brushed the soot off of her khaki pants and lilac sweater, glancing around the room as she did so.  The room was circular and very cozy, filled with shelves full of books, comfy armchairs, an empty gold bird perch, and various strange, silver instruments.  The room was dominated by a large wooden desk set in front of a wall full of dozens upon dozens of wizarding portraits of what Willow assumed were the headmasters and headmistresses of the past.  She couldn’t help but stare in awe as they scrutinized her.

                “You must be Willow Rosenberg,” said a kind voice from behind her.

                Startled, Willow whirled around to see a woman somewhere between ten and fifteen years older than her.   She wore her chocolate brown hair in a bob and her amused eyes were the color of cinnamon.  “Hey, hi,” said Willow, blushing.  “Yes, that’s me—er, Willow, that is.  Willow is me er, I-I mean, I’m Willow.  Nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand to the older witch.

                “Charity Burbage,” said the fair-skinned woman, shaking Willow’s offered hand.  “I’m the Muggle Studies professor.”

                “Oh!  So you teach kids about the non-magical world?” said Willow.  “That’s so neat!”

                “Did you take Muggle Studies?” asked Charity.

                “No,” said Willow, shaking her head, “but I grew up all muggle till I was sixteen and I didn’t start practicing magic till I was eighteen.”

                “So you didn’t go to Salem, then?” said Charity in disbelief.

                “Salem?”

                “The Salem Institute for Witchcraft and Wizardry,” clarified Charity.  “They have branches all across the United States.”

                “Oh, nope,” said Willow.  “I went to a normal—well, _mostly_ normal—muggle high school.”

                “ _Mostly_ normal?”

                “It’s a long story.”

                “Of course it is,” muttered Charity.  She glanced over at one of the strange silver instruments sitting on the headmaster’s desk and said, “Well, we’d best be going now.  I still need to give you an abridged tour of Hogwarts and show you your rooms before the welcome feast this evening.”

                “It’ll really take that long?” asked Willow; it was only nine in the morning.

                “The school is _enormous_ , Willow,” explained Charity, “ _and_ we’re having the feast a bit earlier than normal this year.”

                “That’s good,” said Willow, sighing in relief.

                “Oh?  Busy tonight, are you?”

                “Yeah,” replied Willow.  “My boyfriend is busy tonight and we’re staying at the Three Broomsticks till we can find a house in Hogsmeade, so we don’t have anyone to watch our daughter tonight.  Hence the me being busy.  Don’t worry, the headmaster knows all about it.”

                “Well, then,” said Charity, “let’s get going, shall we?”

                “Lead on Macduff!”

 

                “…and up there is the Astronomy Tower,” said Charity, pointing to a large, wooden door which was propped open enough for Willow to see a set of tall, winding stairs leading up, up, up and out of sight.  “It’s a favorite snogging spot amongst the students, especially for fifth years and higher.”

                Willow giggled.  “Sounds like the janitor closets at Sunnydale High.”

                Charity smiled.  “Quite,” she said.  “Well, I think now is a good time to show you to your rooms.  We’ll just have a small snack to tide us over until the feast and I’ll tell you everything you need to know about certain students of ours.”

                “Sounds like a plan,” said Willow.

                “Follow me, please.”  Willow complied, following the older witch down the long, open hallways, down several flights of stairs, and past various empty classrooms.

 

                The two women sat in Willow’s green and gold sitting room sipping their tea.  “So,” began Willow, “you were going to give me the 4-1-1 on the students, right?”

                “4-1-1?” asked Charity.

                “Yeah, 4-1-1.  You know: lowdown, info, what’s the what—”

                “Oh, _4-1-1_ , right.”

                “Well?” said Willow, quirking an eyebrow.

                “Okay, well first off you need to know about the Head Boy and Girl,” explained Charity.  “They are always seventh years, they get a lot of extra privileges, and they’re allowed to give and take points and assign detentions as they see fit.”

                “So they’re kinda like me?” asked Willow.

                “But with fewer powers and privileges.”

                “Ah.”

                “Yes.  This year’s Head Boy and Girl are both Gryffindors—you _do_ know what Gryffindor is, right?”

                “Yeah; Albus made with the splainy earlier this summer.”

                “Good,” said Charity, sounding relieved.  “That’s one less thing for me to explain.  Anyway, this year’s Head Boy is Percy Weasley and the Head Girl is Cameron O’Neeson.”

                “Percy Weasley and Cameron O’Neeson are Head Boy and Girl.  Got it,” said Willow.

                “Good.  Now, next up we have prefects.  There are two per house—one boy and one girl—for fifth year and up—so that’s two for fifth year, two for sixth year, and two for seventh year.  Got that?”

                “There’re six prefects per house.  Got it.”

                “Now, prefects have less power and privileges than the Head Boy and Girl.  They can award and remove points, but they are not allowed to personally assign detentions, only recommend so to a teacher or the Head Boy and Girl.”

                “Prefects have less power and can’t assign detention, got it,” said Willow.

                “Good.  Now, here’s a list of all the prefects and their houses and years.  Don’t worry about memorizing it or anything; you’ll get to know a lot of the students pretty well this year, trust me.  Besides, the prefects will be the ones walking around with a shiny badge with a ‘P’ on it pinned to their chests.  Just don’t let the Quidditch captains convince you that they can dole out points and detentions because they can’t.  Roger Davies and Marcus Flint are especially bad about that.”

                “Shiny ‘P’ badges for prefects and quidditch captains can’t hand out points or detentions.  Got it.”

                “Good.  Now, I could tell you about the professors, but there’s a staff meeting tomorrow morning to take care of that for me.”

                “There is?”

                “Yes.  Usually it’s after the Welcome Feast, but the Headmaster had to make some adjustments to accommodate certain professors’ needs this year.”

                “Is it because of me?” asked Willow in a small voice.

                “No,” Charity assured her.  “Well, not completely anyway.”

                “Oh good.”

                “Right.  Well, on to which students you should look out for and which ones have special needs that you should be aware of.”

                “Is it a long list?”

                Charity couldn’t help but laugh.  “Sadly enough, yes,” she said.  “Now, why don’t we start with our ‘special needs’ kids.”

                “What exactly do you mean by ‘special needs’ kids?” asked Willow.

                “It’s nothing debilitating,” Charity explained.  “They just have a certain… _condition_ , let’s call it, that requires special attention.”

                “Oh, okay then.”

                “Right.  Well, first off, you should know that this year we have a teacher that shares this _condition_ , so it should be a bit simpler to handle—it’s the Defense professor who shares it, oddly enough.”

                “Does this condition have a name?” asked Willow.

                Charity paused for dramatic effect before speaking a single word, her voice a low whisper.  “ _Lycanthropy._ ”

                Willow burst into laughter and dropped her cup, which shattered on the coffee table.  “I-I’m sorry,” she gasped, still consumed by laughter.  “I-I know it’s no la-laughing matter—”

                “I should hope not,” huffed Charity.

                “I-I know,” gasped Willow, “it’s just that m-my b-boyfriend’s a w-werewolf too!”

                Charity blinked once.  Twice.  Then she too burst into uncontrollable laughter.  “Dear sweet Merlin,” she gasped, “if that isn’t the biggest coincidence, then I don’t know what is!”

                “Tell me about it!”

                It took a good five minutes for the two women to calm down enough to continue their conversation.  “Anyway,” continued Charity, taking a calming breath, “the new Defense professor Remus Lupin—you’ll be working with him—is, in fact, a werewolf, as are two sixth year Gryffindor girls—twins, Callista and Cleopatra Lupin.”

                “Any relation to the professor?” asked Willow.

                “As a matter of fact, yes,” said Charity.  “They’re his twin daughters.”

                “Huh,” said Willow.  “So lycanthropy _can_ be hereditary.  I was wondering about that.”

                “Yes, it can, apparently,” said Charity.  “I don’t really know how it works—I’m hardly an expert on the subject—but I’m fairly certain it’s a fifty/fifty chance.  I mean, Calli and Cleo are werewolves, but their older and younger half-siblings by their father aren’t—the ones that are in school anyway.  I’ve heard rumors they have a younger half-brother who is as well, but he won’t be starting Hogwarts for another couple of years.”

                “Hm.  I guess Oz and I got lucky with our daughter then,” said Willow.

                “You have a daughter?  This is the second time you’ve mentioned her.”

                Willow smiled brightly.  “Oh yes,” she said.  “Her name is Lily Willow and she just turned a year old last week.  She’s just the cutest thing ever!!  She…”  And Willow was off, gushing over her precious baby girl.  Charity and Willow spent the remainder of the afternoon chatting about Lily (Willow) and giving warnings and important information about the students (Charity). 

 

The teachers were beginning to assemble in the Great Hall in preparation for the students’ arrival.  As they took their places at the head table, Charity took the time to point out who was who to Willow.  “That’s Septima Vector, the Arithmancy professor,” said Charity, pointing to an elegant, middle-aged witch who wore her raven-black hair in a loose bun.  She then pointed to a grumpy-looking, unkempt man holding a rather ugly cat and said, “That’s Argus Filch, the caretaker, and his cat Mrs. Norris and that’s Sybill Trelawney, the Divination professor,” she pointed to a strange-looking woman whose large glasses gave her an insect-like quality.  She wore far too many shawls and beads and Willow could smell the incense from across the room.  “I’d avoid her if I were you.  She’s a bit of a loon and she loves predicting people’s gruesome deaths.”

                “Avoid Professor Trelawney, got it,” said Willow, nodding her head in understanding.

                “Right.  Oh, that’s Filius Flitwick, our Charms professor,” said Charity, pointing to a tiny, cheerful, white-haired man.  “He’s also head of Ravenclaw and he directs the Hogwarts Choir.”

                “He’s so little!” squealed Willow.

                “The rumor is he’s part goblin, but he’s never confirmed it personally—he’s never denied it either.”

                Willow tilted her head thoughtfully.  “I can see it.”

                “Most think so.  Oh!  There’s Pomona Sprout,” she said, waving to a cheerful, rosy-cheeked witch whose flyaway grey hair poked out from under her sunny-yellow witch’s hat.  “She’s the Herbology professor and head of Hufflepuff—my old house.  She’s such a sweet lady.  Oh, that sinister-looking witch over there is, appropriately enough, Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher.”   She pointed to a tall, stately witch who wore her golden-blonde hair in a simple braid that framed her severe, yet classically beautiful face.  “She’s a former Slytherin, if you can’t tell from the ‘I’m better than you’ look on her face.”

                “I _had_ wondered if I’d offended her somehow,” said Willow.

                “No, she’s just your typical pureblood Slytherin.  Oh, that elderly witch there, that’s Mrs. Franciszka Siatkowski, the professor of Foreign Wizarding Culture Studies,” Charity said, bowing her head politely to the elderly, white-haired Polish witch.  Professor Siatkowski returned her greeting regally.  “Professor Siatkowski is retiring after this year,” Charity added softly so that only Willow could hear.  “She told me that she wants to spend her remaining time with her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.”

                “Is she sick?” asked Willow.

                “No,” said Charity, “she’s just getting on in years and most of her family lives outside the U.K.”

                “Oh.  Well, I guess that makes sense, then.”

                “Indeed.  Oh, look,” said Charity, blushing and smiling at a young man with thick, curly, chestnut brown hair and bright green-blue eyes who had just walked into the Great Hall, “there’s Ben Newton.  He’s the Ancient Runes professor.  
                “Someone’s got a cru-ush”.

                “Shush you,” said Charity, blushing an even deeper red.

                “I’m totally right,” said Willow.  “You likey Professor Newton, Charity.”

                “Willow!  Shush or he’ll hear you!” squeaked Charity, still blushing like mad.

                “So,” said Willow, “how long have you been crushing on Professor Hotty there?”

                “Since I started teaching here three years ago,” Charity admitted.

                “Girl, you gotta get a move on!”

                “Oh look, there’s Rolanda Hooch,” said Charity, diverting to a safer topic as a short witch with cropped, spiky, grey hair and yellow, hawk-like eyes sat down.  “She’s the flying instructor.”

                “You’re not getting off that easy, missy,” warned Willow.

                “And there’s Irma Pince, the librarian,” continued Charity, ignoring Willow in favor of the older, no-nonsense woman who had just sat herself down beside Argus Filch.  “She’s quite strict, Madam Pince.  Oh, and there’s Cuthbert Binns,” she said, pointing to the only ghost teacher.  “He dedicated his life to teaching as well as his un-life.  Apparently he went to sleep in his favorite armchair one night and by the next morning he was dead, but he simply left his body behind and continued teaching.”

                “Does he even know he’s dead?” asked Willow in wonder.

                “Sometimes we wonder,” replied Charity.  “He just keeps going on as if nothing has changed.”

                “Weird.”

                “Indeed.  Oh, that’s Snape,” said Charity, her voice fighting to stay neutral as a tall, thin, vampire-pale man in billowing black robes swooped into the Hall.  He sneered at the room in general from behind his curtain of shoulder-length, greasy black hair.  He had cold, black eyes and an overlarge beak of a nose, which created an overall unsettling combination.

                “Who is he?” asked Willow.

                “Professor Severus Snape,” replied Charity, “potions master extraordinaire, head of Slytherin, resident bat of the Hogwarts dungeons, dark arts aficionado, and all around greasy git.”

                “I take it you don’t like him very much.”

                “Most people don’t,” replied Charity.  “He tends to have that effect on people.  The only people who actually like him are the Headmaster and a few of Snape’s fellow Snakes.”

                “Snakes?”

                “It’s another name for the Slytherins.  Gryffindors are Lions or Gryffs; Ravenclaws are Ravens or Claws; Hufflepuffs are Badgers, Puffs, or Puffles; and Slytherins are Snakes.”

                “Cause of the house mascots and their names?”

                “Exactly.”

                Willow looked up and down the nearly full head table.  “Is this all the teachers?  Wait, Professor Dumbledore’s missing and I don’t remember you pointing out the Defense teacher...Is anyone else missing?”

                Charity glanced around.  “Besides Dumbledore and Lupin, it looks like we’re missing McGonagall and Pomfrey.  Professor Minerva McGonagall is the Transfiguration professor, head of Gryffindor, and Deputy Headmistress.  Madam Poppy Pomfrey is the school’s mediwitch.  She can be a bit overbearing when it comes to her patients, but she’s excellent at her job.  Oh, and Hagrid appears to missing as well—Rubeus Hagrid.  Have you met him?”

                “Oh yes; he took me to Diagon Alley this summer,” replied Willow.  “He’s a sweetie.”

                “Yes, he is, isn’t he?  He’s the groundskeeper—officially ‘Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts’—and this year Dumbledore offered him the Care of Magical Creatures post.  He accepted, naturally.”

                “Oh, how wonderful!” exclaimed Willow.  “I’ll bet he’s so happy!”

                “He’s ecstatic,” Charity said with a smile.  “I almost pity his students though…”

                “Why?”

                “How shall I put this—Hagrid’s definition of a ‘dangerous creature’ isn’t exactly the same as everyone else’s.”

                “What do you mean?” asked Willow.

                “Well, he’s always wanted a dragon for a pet, for one.  Rumor has it he tried to raise one in his _wooden_ cabin two years ago.”

                “Oh.”

                “Exactly.”

                “Ah, Willow dear!  So good to see you’ve arrived safely!”  Startled, Willow looked up to see Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling merrily (almost maniacally so), standing in front of her.  He was resplendent in royal purple robes with…

                “Are those pink elephants singing karaoke?”

                “Why yes,” said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling merrily (maniacally) behind his half-moon glasses.  “They were a back-to-school gift from my dear friend Stanley.  Do you like them?”

                “They’re very…”

                “Loud?” suggested Charity, arching an eyebrow.

                “I was gonna say colorful, but I guess loud works too,” said Willow, smiling nervously at Dumbledore.

                “Sweet Morgana, Albus,” said Professor Siatkowski from her seat two down from Charity, “did my fool grandson really give _those_ to you?”

                “I rather like them, Franciszka; Stanley has _excellent_ taste,” said Dumbledore, almost pouting.

                “Th-they’re very…cheerful,” offered Willow.

                “Hm, of course they are, child,” said Professor Siatkowski.  “Stanley would never give Albus anything less.  That doesn’t make him any less of a fool.”

                “I’ll be sure to pass on your felicitations to Stanley over our Tuesday tea, then,” said Dumbledore.

                “Be sure that you do that, Albus,” said Professor Siatkowski.  “And do tell that boy to come see his grandmother while he’s here.  It’s been far too long since I’ve seen him or that delightful daughter of his.”

                The conversation was cut off suddenly by a new Scottish-accented voice.  “Albus, there’s been a spot of trouble on the train.”  Willow looked over to the main doors of the Great Hall and saw a tall, stern woman walking toward the staff table.  Her black hair was drawn back in a severe bun and she was wearing square spectacles.  This was not someone Willow wanted to mess with; she meant business.

                “Professor McGonagall,” Charity muttered to Willow, who nodded in understanding.

                “What happened, Minerva?” asked Dumbledore.

                “Remus Lupin sent an owl alerting me that dementors had boarded the train not ten minutes ago.  He was able to drive them off—thank Merlin—and no one was seriously hurt.  However, it seems as though Harry Potter had a rather severe reaction.”

Dumbledore raised one bushy, white eyebrow.  “What happened?” he asked.

                “He fainted.”

                Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled with humor.  “I’m sure he loved that.”

                “With your permission, Albus,” said McGonagall, “I’d like to hold him back before the feast so that Poppy can look him over and make sure that he is well.”

                Dumbledore nodded his acquiescence.  “Of course, Minerva, whatever you think is best.  He is in your House, after all.”

                McGonagall nodded stiffly.  “I shall go retrieve the Sorting Hat now and prepare for the ceremony.  The train will be here in about five minutes, Albus.”

                “Thank you Minerva,” said Dumbledore.  McGonagall nodded and left the Great Hall, moving with an almost feline grace. 

                “Well staff,” said Dumbledore, turning back to the Head table and clapping his hands together, “it seems as though the start-of-term feast is almost upon us.  Do carry on with you conversations.”  As Dumbledore made his way to the throne-like chair at the center of the table (situated between Franciszca Siatkowski and an empty seat that belonged to Minerva McGonagall) the chatter started up again.

 

                “Willow Rosenberg?”

                Willow looked up from her conversation with Charity to find the empty seat on her other side filled by a tall, thin man with tired, amber eyes that were sparkling with joy.  He had longish, floppy, sandy colored hair that was streaked with grey.  She couldn’t help but notice the large, prominent scar that ran across his young face from just below his right eye and across his nose before ending at the bottom of his left cheek near his strong jaw.  He wore shabby, patched robes, but despite his overall appearance he looked very kind and rather young—not much more than a decade older than herself, she estimated.

                “I’m Willow,” said Willow, smiling up at him, unperturbed by the man’s worn-down, shabby appearance.

                “I’m Remus Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

                Willow took it.  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin.  I look forward to working with you this year.”

                “And I you, Miss Rosenberg,” Remus replied with a tired, but kind smile.

                “Please call me Willow,” she said, returning the kind man’s smile.

                “Then you must call me Remus, Willow.” He bowed to her in his seat.

                Willow laughed.  “You’re either a complete gentleman or a total flirt, Remus Lupin,” she teased.

                Remus smiled a mischievous smile.  “I’ve been told I can be a bit of both, really,” he teased back.

                “Hey, I’ve got a boyfriend mister.”

                “And I’m sure he’s a lucky bloke, to have captured the heart of a beauty such as yourself.”

                Willow blushed bright red.  “You, Remus whatever-your-middle-name-is Lupin, are a-a smooth talker, a-a flirt, and a-a _closet prankster_ , I bet!”

                Remus smirked and bowed his acquiescence.  “But of course, fair Willow. Tis my nature.”

                “I like you,” laughed Willow, smiling at Remus.

                “I’m glad milady approves,” said Remus, grinning back.  “I do believe that you and I shall get along famously, Willow.”


	4. Chapter 3: High School Never Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oz has tryouts for his new band and Willow has a run in with the Weasley twins.

** Chapter 3: High School Never Ends **

**__ **

_“The whole damn world is just as obsessed_  
_With who‘s the best dressed and who‘s having sex,_  
 _Who‘s got the money, who gets the honeys,_  
 _Who‘s kinda cute and who‘s just a mess_  
 _And I still don’t have the right look_  
 _And I still have the same three friends_  
 _And I’m pretty much the same as I was back then_  
 _High school never ends”_

_-“High School Never Ends” by Bowling for Soup_

**_September 8, 2001_** **:** Hogwarts, Willow quickly discovered, was a lot like Sunnydale High.  There were cliques, jocks, a _fantastic_ rumor mill, and that one teacher that everyone (including the other teachers) hated.  The only things missing were the monsters and the annual apocalypse (though she supposed it was still a little early in the year to tell with the latter).  Since the September 1 st had been a Saturday, Willow had had the whole weekend to prepare for her first class.  The staff meeting Sunday afternoon had been interesting, to say the least.  Remus and Charity had been especially helpful in making her feel welcome.  Charity was well-versed in the who’s-who’s of Hogwarts and made sure that Willow was informed about certain trouble makers, specifically the Weasley Twins (fifth year Gryffindors) and the Dangerous Duo (a couple of third year Gryffindor girls named Mary Evans and Cassi Black), and “problem children,” namely the Golden Trio of Gryffindor (third years Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger) and a certain Draco Malfoy of Slytherin, also a third year.  In general, she got the impression that Gryffindor tended to produce troublemakers at an alarming rate, specifically in this year’s third year class. She had spent the rest of the day with Remus, working on lesson plans and learning everything she could about witchy magic from the knowledgeable wizard.

                Willow was terrified on the first day of classes, but Remus’ quick wit and creative teaching style quickly put both herself and the students at ease.  By the end of the week, nearly all of the students were raving about their new defense professor and the class was the new favorite amongst the student population.  Willow was quickly falling into a routine at Hogwarts.  She’d wake up and floo over to Hogsmeade, where she’d have breakfast with Oz and Lily, before flooing back over and going over the day’s lesson plans with Remus.  From there, depending on the day, the teaching duo had anywhere from one to six classes of varying ages and houses in any given day.

                Willow made it through her first week at Hogwarts with minimal injuries and traumas.  To celebrate her first week as an official teacher, she invited Charity and Remus (who’d had to decline, he wouldn’t say why) to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade for a celebratory drink.  Charity and Willow had bonded quickly over their love of muggle culture; as it was, Charity was a muggle-born who could never find it in her heart to leave either of her worlds behind, and so she had decided to pass on her love of muggle culture to the Hogwarts students.

               

Saturday afternoon around two, Willow and Charity made their way along the streets of Hogsmeade.  Willow, still unused to the cold of Scotland, was bundled up in a fuzzy pink sweater that was decorated with a smiling cat face (a piece of high school that she hadn’t had the heart to get rid of).  She endured Charity’s teasing with an easy smile and carefree laughter.   She knew there was no real bite to her comments; Charity was no Cordelia, after all.  The women arrived at the Three Broomsticks with rosy cheeks and smiling faces to find a purple haired Oz and a giggling Lily waiting for them.  Charity was instantly smitten with the tiny redheaded girl and spent a great deal of time playing peek-a-boo and pat-a-cake with her.  This allowed the girl’s parents to have a chance to catch up with each other’s lives uninterrupted; it hadn’t been the plan, but none of them really minded.

“How’s the search for band members going?” Willow asked Oz as they waited for their lunch to arrive.

“Great.  All I have left to find is a decent vocalist.  I’m holding auditions next weekend.”

“That’s great!” said Charity, making funny faces at Lily.  “If you want, there are a couple of Hogwarts students that I could talk to about trying out.”

“Only if they’re over seventeen,” said Oz.  “Really don’t want to have to deal with minors.  Wizarding World coming of age _is_ seventeen, right?”

“That’s right,” said Charity, handing Lily to her mother.  “I can definitely do that.  I’m sure Dumbledore will be accommodating about allowing a few students into Hogsmeade for the day.”

“Sounds great,” said Oz, giving the brunette teacher a small smile.  “Think you might know any of my band members?”

“That depends,” said Charity.  “Who are they?”

“Hey guys,” interrupted Willow, “I’m gonna go change Lily.  I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing, Will,” said Oz.  He gave her a peck on the cheek as she left the table.

“So your band?” asked Charity.

“I play guitar,” he said, “and I’ve got a Liv Vector for keyboard, Jackie Stewins for bass, Jay Marcusson for drums, and Alex Black for back-up guitar.”

Charity frowned thoughtfully.  “I think Liv is the niece of out arithmancy professor and I know Alex; he’s engaged to our head girl this year.  The other two names don’t really sound familiar, but if they never took muggle studies, there’s a good chance I never met them.”

“Well, what can you tell me about Liv and Alex?”

 

Willow, meanwhile, had finally found the restroom and was about to enter when out of the men’s room came a pair of identical faces—identical faces she had become well acquainted with over her first week at Hogwarts.  “Fred and George Weasley,” she said in her most professorly voice.  The redheaded twins stopped dead in their tracks, their backs still turned to her.  “What are you boys doing here when I _know_ there’s no Hogsmeade weekend for students until October?”

The boys turned around, identical looks of sheepish chagrin on their freckled faces.  “I don’t suppose you could—”

“—just forget you saw us.”

Willow was still getting used to the Ping-Pong way that the twins spoke, finishing each other’s sentences.  She narrowed her green eyes and them and pulled Lily up more securely on her hip.  “Do you see this face?” she said.  “This is my resolve face.  You’d better get used to it, misters, because once it’s on, there’s no changing my mind about anything.”  
                “Ya,” piped in little Lily, twisting to face the twins and imitating her mother’s face, “Momma mins buz-nus, mithters.”

The twins were suddenly all smiles.  “And who is—”

“—this little cutie pie?”

“I bees Ly Wiwwow,” she said.  “Who bees yous?”

“I’m Gred—”

“—and I’m Forge.”

“We’re Gred and Forge,” they said together, bowing comically to the little girl.

“Momma,” she said excitedly, patting Willow rapidly on the shoulder, “Ly wikes dem.  Can wes keeps dem?”

Willow laughed.  “Oh Lily-cub, you are too precious.”

“Dat wadden an ansa, Momma.”

Willow sighed.  Sometimes her baby girl was too smart for her own good.  “Lily sweetie—”

“Oh c’mon Miss Willow,” said twin number one.

“We don’t mind if the munchkin wants to keep us,” said twin number two.

“Yes, well, you two are in oodles of trouble right now,” said Willow, her anger deflating even as she spoke.  She heaved a sigh.  “As much as I hate to be the bad guy, I can’t just let you two get off scot free.”  She looked into her daughter’s emerald eyes and was suddenly struck with inspiration.  “That said, I think I know what your punishment is going to be.”

 

“Sorry that took so long,” said Willow, sliding into the seat beside Oz and pecking him on the cheek.  She set Lily back into her high chair and continued, “I ran into a little problem on the way to the restroom, but it’s been taken care of.”

“That’s alright,” said Oz.  “Your friend Charity was just telling me about a couple of my band members.  Apparently she knows two of them.”

“Former students?” asked Willow.

“What else?” said Charity with a grin.  “His second guitar player is actually engaged to the head girl this year.”

“No kidding,” said Willow, digging into her spaghetti and meatballs, which luckily had not gone cold.

“Yeah, what’re the odds,” said Oz.  “So this little problem of yours…”

“Oh, I just ran into a couple of students who obviously were out without permission.”

“The Weasley twins?” said Charity.

“The Weasley twins.”

“Are you gonna report them to McGonagall?” she asked.

“No, I came up with a more creative punishment for them.”

“How so?” asked Oz.

“Let’s just say that we’ve got free, no complaints babysitters for Lily for the foreseeable future.”

“You didn’t,” said Charity in awe.

“It was actually Lily’s idea,” admitted Willow.  “She met them and decided that she wanted to keep them.  I thought my plan worked out best for everyone.”

“The Weasley twins as babysitters,” said Charity in wonder.  “You realize you may live to regret that decision.”

Willow shrugged.  “I know, but Lily likes them.  Besides, everyone deserves a chance.  Sometimes that’s all a person really needs.”

 

Fred and George made their way back to Hogwarts through the secret tunnel under Honeydukes.  They hadn’t been caught by a teacher in Hogsmeade like that since back in their first year.  The fact that it was a brand new professor— _assistant_ professor—who had caught them didn’t really make them feel any better.  They were grateful that she had agreed not to rat them out to McGonagall, but still…

“Babysitting?” said Fred incredulously.  “Did we really just agree to free babysitting, Forge?”

“I think we did, Gred,” replied George, shock evident on his face.

“It was Miss Willow.”

“The face, right?”

“Was it just me or did that resolve face of hers—”

“—look familiar.  Yeah, I got that too.”

“So where have we seen it before?”

“No idea.”

As the twins continued to discuss the strange encounter with their teacher, they made their way back up to the statue of the one-eyed witch without realizing it.  Lucky for them, the corridor was all-but empty when they arrived or they would have been caught for sure.  The only person there was their friend Lee Jordan, a tall black boy with dreadlocks.  He was leaning casually against the wall across from the statue, waiting for them.

“Took you long enough,” said Lee, unfolding his limbs and falling into step with the twins.

“Sorry mate,” said Fred.

“Ran into a bit of trouble at the Broomsticks,” said George.

“What kind of trouble?” asked Lee warily.  “Do I need to have an alibi prepared for you?”

“Nah,” said Fred.

“Already got caught,” said George.

“Wait, what?” said Lee.  “That hasn’t happened since, like—”

“First year.”

“We know.”

“It was the new teacher too.”

“Miss Willow, that is.”

Lee let out a low whistle.  “Miss Willow caught you?  Harsh.  What’d she do?”

“We’ve got babysitting duty—”

“—whenever Miss Willow and her fiancé need it.”

“Harsh.”

“Yeah,” the twins said together.

“Mum never really let us babysit Ron and Ginny,” said Fred.

“She thought we’d either corrupt them or kill them,” added George.

“Help us, Lee?” they said together, turning puppy dog eyes on him.

Lee rolled his mocha colored eyes.  “Oh fine,” he said.  “You’re just lucky I’ve had a lot of experience with my little niece and nephew.  You two owe me one…or ten.”

Fred and George bowed dramatically to their friend.  “We bow down to your superior babysitting experience, oh great and powerful Lee,” they said together.  “Teach us, Master, the ways of the sitting-of-the-baby.”

 

 ** _September 15, 2001_** **:** Oz groaned, downing a shot of firewhisky at the bar.  He hated having to listen to people who thought they could sing, but really couldn’t.  He could only hope that Charity’s group of students was more promising than the tone-deaf wannabes who had shown up thus far to audition.  He heaved an audible sigh of relief when he spotted the Muggle Studies professor’s familiar form heading toward him, leading a small group of students.  He was set up to do the auditions in a small back room of the Hog’s Head pub and he motioned for Charity and her students to follow him.

“So whaddya got for me?” he asked as he pulled out a chair for Charity at the small table he had claimed as his own.

“I brought ten kids,” she said.  “They’re all seventh years, a mix from every house.  They’re mostly girls, but a few boys showed interest too.  I wasn’t really sure what you were looking for.”

“That’s okay,” said Oz with a shrug.  “I’m more of a figure things out as I go kind of guy.”

Charity laughed.  “Alright then.  How do you want to do this?”

“Generally these things are done with copious amounts of booze, but I don’t really think that’s appropriate this time.”

“Good call,” said Charity dryly.  “Do you want them one at a time or as a group?”

“One at a time is good.”

One by one Charity called the ten students over to sing, except for a set of identical twin girls that absolutely refused to be separated from each other.  Finally there was only one left.  “I think you’ll like this one,” said Charity softly to Oz.  “Melody Black was a child prodigy vocalist before she started at Hogwarts.  She stopped singing in her first year—no one really knows why—but I finally managed to convince her to try out.”

The girl who stepped into the room was tall and curvy in all the right places.  Her hair fell in long waves of dark chocolate down to her hips, a few strands of deep black giving the color extra depth.  Her skin was touched with the faintest hint of honeyed bronze, which was only accentuated by the pumpkin orange, cold-shoulder jumper that she wore paired with a pair of black skinny jeans tucked into calf-high black combat boots.  Her eyes were a deep mocha…mostly.  In those dark orbs swirled flecks of silvery-gray that gave the teen a certain air of mystery and aloofness.  She certainly looked like she’d fit into his band, thought Oz, but could she sing?

Damn, the girl could belt it.  Oz was soon lost in the lyrics as this mysteriously angsty teen sang on:

 

_Wake up in a dream._

_Frozen fear._

_All your hands on me._

_I can’t scream._

_I can’t scream._

_I can’t escape the twisted way you think of me._

_I feel you in my dreams and I don’t sleep._

_I don’t sleep._

_You belong to me,_

_My snow white queen._

_There’s nowhere to run, so let’s just get it over_

_Soon I know you’ll see,_

_You’re just like me._

_Don’t scream anymore my love, ‘cause all I want is you_

“That’s perfect,” said Oz, uncharacteristically emotional.  “You’re just what I’m looking for.  You want the gig?”

Melody shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.  “Sure.  Beats sitting around the castle all the time; I’m in.”

“Great.  We can hash out the details over lunch with your teacher.  Charity?”

“Sounds great,” the cinnamon-eyed brunette said.  “I’ll just get the others back up to the castle and then meet you at the Three Broomsticks in half an hour.  Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” said Oz.  “Anyone else need to be there?”

“I’ll grab Melody’s head of house; she doubles as a guardian for things like this.”  Charity promised to be back soon and left with the other nine students.

“Fantastic,” drawled Melody once she was gone.  “Can we get this show on the road before I die of old age?”

Oz cracked a smile.  “Sure thing, kid,” he said.  “We’ll go meet my fiancée at the Broomsticks and we’ll get you started.”

“You’re engaged?”  She looked almost disappointed at that piece of information.

“Yeah, to your assistant Defense professor,” said Oz.  “Sorry, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” she muttered.

“Right,” he said.  “You’re still too young for me.”

“You can’t be that old.  You’re what, twenty-three?”

“Twenty-one, actually, but I’m a one woman kind of guy.”

“You sure about that?” she teased.

“We have a kid.”

“Ah.  That’s pretty serious.”  She stopped as they walked along the paved road in Hogsmeade.  “I wouldn’t actually try to break you up, you know,” she admitted softly.

“I believe you,” said Oz.

“You can call me Mel,” she said.  “That’s what my siblings call me.”

“Not your friends?”  He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She turned her gaze to the ground.  “I don’t really do the whole friend thing, not with people who aren’t related to me,” she said.  “I have trouble getting along with others.  My brother says I have trust issues.”

“Well, Mel, we’ll see what we can do to fix that.   I like to be friends with my fellow musicians; it makes things a whole lot more fun for everyone involved.  You willing to give it a shot?”

Mel gave him a small smile.  “Why not,” she said.  “Can’t hurt, anyway.”

“That’s the spirit.  Oh, and about what you said before?”

“The not breaking you and your fiancée up thing?”

“Yeah, that.  I feel I should warn you; the last time someone tried to break me and Willow up, it didn’t end well…for them.”

Mel shivered at the fiercely protective look that passed through Oz’s stormy blue-grey eyes.  “Duly noted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The song Melody sings is "Snow White Queen" by Evanescence


	5. Chapter 4: This Is Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oz meets his dad and the Weasley twins plot.

** Chapter 4: This is Home **

  
_“Belief over misery_  
_I've seen the enemy_  
 _And I won't go back_  
 _Back to how it was_  
 _And I got my heart set on what happens next_  
 _I got my eyes wide it's not over yet_  
 _We are miracles and we're not alone”_  


_-“This is Home” by Switchfoot from The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian_

__

**_October 6, 2001_** **:** Oz waited nervously at a booth at the Three Broomsticks, holding a steaming mug of hot cocoa between his cold hands.  Any minute now his father would walk through the door and sit down at his booth.  They had exchanged a few brief letters since their initial contact over the summer and had agreed to mark the booth they would meet in with a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ set out in the open.  Oz had read through it several times, at his father’s suggestion, and had found many of the entries informative and eye-opening.

                “Daniel—Oz.”  Oz looked up from his cocoa.  The man standing by his booth was tall and thin with sandy hair and expressive amber eyes.  He fidgeted nervously with the ends of his frayed gold and red striped scarf.  “You are Oz, aren’t you?” he asked, his hoarse voice hopeful.

                Oz cleared his throat.  “Yeah.  You’re my dad?”

                The man smiled crookedly.  “Guilty as charged.  My name’s Remus,” he said, holding out his hand for Oz to shake.  “I figured that might be the safest place to start.”

                “Yeah,” said Oz.  “You wanna join me?”

                Remus raised his eyebrow.  “That was the plan, was it not?” he said, sliding into the seat across from his son.  Oz let out a nervous chuckle.  Remus smiled crookedly.  “Despite the rumors, I don’t bite,” he quipped.

                “That’s good to know,” said Oz, relaxing slightly.  “So…”

                ‘So.  Why don’t I start?”

                Oz smiled sheepishly.  “That would be of the good.  I’m not usually much of a talker.”

                “Me neither,” admitted Remus.  “Not these days at least.  Although, I have been getting practice lately at my job.”

                “What do you do?” asked Oz.

                “I’m a professor up at Hogwarts.”

 

                “Gred—”

                “—and Forge—”

                “—reporting for the sitting of the baby!”

                Willow didn’t even look up from her stack of papers as she replied, “If you boys so much as _think_ of sitting on my Lily-cub, I will turn you both into rats faster than you can say ‘eep.’”

                “Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

                “Wouldn’t dream of it!”

                “Good,” said Willow, setting her purple pen down and finally looking up at the grinning freckled faces of the Weasley twins.  “Lily is currently picking out what books she wants you two to read to her.  I told her that you boys did funny voices and everything.”  The mischievous twinkle in her jade eyes rivaled their own.

                “You expect us—”

                “—to read to the sprog?”

                “That and so much more,” cackled Willow, the grin on her face positively malicious with glee.  “Gentlemen, until I decide that you have been thoroughly punished for your unauthorized Hogsmeade visit—and yes, I am aware that it was probably not your first or your last; I am hardly a fool—your free time belongs to me…and to Lily.”

                There was something so incredibly familiar in Willow’s smile as she gleefully informed them of their Lily-sitting duties that they just could not place.  Once the redheaded professor was through instructing them on the proper care of her baby girl, she sent them off into her private quarters to entertain the kid while she continued her work in peace.

                “You ever get the feeling we’re missing something important?” Fred asked George as they climbed the stairs to Willow’s rooms.

                “All the time, Gred,” replied George.  “Were you referring specifically to Miss Willow or has our brain jumped to a new subject?”

                “Miss Willow, of course, Forge,” replied Fred.  “That smile—”

                “—the glint—”

                “—the freckles—”

                “—the hair—”

                “…you don’t think?”

                George shrugged.  “Mum and Dad’ve never said anything, but what else could it be?”

                Fred’s brown eyes gleamed mischievously.  “Methinks it’s time we write to our dearest eldest brothers, brother mine.”

                George’s grin was just as mischievous.  “Methinks it’s past time, mine brother.  Operation Willow Tree is a go.”

                “Operation Willow Tree?”

                “You don’t like it?”

                “It’s not sneaky enough.  We need a sneakier name for this operation.”

                “Well what do you suggest, o master of plan naming?”

                “How about Operation Pranking Willow?”

                “How is that any sneakier?”

                “It has pranking in it.”

                “That just means it’s prankier, not sneakier.”

                “Okay, Mr. ‘Operation Willow Tree,’ you got a better suggestion?”

                “Operation Red Tree.”

                “Operation Momma Bear.”

                “Operation Pterodactyl.”

                “Pterodactyl?”

                “Shut up.  You’re not coming up with anything better.”

                “Operation Terrible Terror.”

                “Operation Furious Fury.”

                “Operation Atrocious Alliteration.”

                “Operation Pretentious Praenomen.”

                “Operation Voracious Vowels.”

 

                “Wait, you mean you _actually_ got to ride a dragon!”

                Remus smiled sheepishly.  “Well, it was a rather ill-conceived plan on my friend’s part, but she was rather insistent and the trainer was loath to tell her no.  We were sixteen and stupid; her mother had just died and she decided to rebel by pulling crazy, stupid stunts like that, pulling me along with her.”

                Oz actually laughed.  “Wish I had stories like that,” he said wistfully.

                “Oh, you must have something,” said Remus.

                “Well, there was the time my fiancée and I helped fight off a giant snake demon.”

                Remus raised an eyebrow.  “That sounds exciting.”

                “And terrifying,” said Oz, shuddering.  “I don’t think any of us who survived will ever forget our high school graduation.”

                “What happened?”

                “Well, the mayor of our town had been working on becoming a pure demon for years and the last step, his ascension, was to take place on our graduation day.  So in the middle of his speech, it started and he turned into this giant snake thing.  We had discovered that the only way to kill him was to wait until he had ascended and blow him up.  My friend Xander and I led the other students with my fiancée while our other friend Buffy lured the mayor-snake through the school into the library where Giles, our librarian and mentor, was waiting to blow the fuse.  Ka-boom and you have deep fried mayor, extra crispy.  Everyone who wasn’t there bought the gas explosion excuse, which was good for us.”

                Remus blinked his amber eyes slowly.  “Your life has been just as crazy as mine,” he said, chuckling.

                Oz smiled.  “You have no idea.  Actually, things were pretty normal for me, right up until I got bitten by my baby cousin.”

                Remus looked confused.  “What does that have to do with the price of cheese in Nepal?”

                “Well, it turns out that Jordy is a werewolf,” said Oz casually.  “When he bit me, I became one as well.”

                Remus’ eyes widened.  “He must have been a born werewolf to infect you outside his wolf form.”

                “That’s what my Aunt Maureen said.  Jordy was only five or six at the time, so that makes sense.”  He looked over at Remus’ contemplative expression.  “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

                Remus blinked.  “What?  Oh, the werewolf thing.”  He chuckled darkly.  “Such things don’t really faze you anymore when you’re a werewolf yourself.”

                Oz raised his eyebrow.  “It _is_ a small world after all.”

                “Indeed.”

                The father-son pair sat in silence for a few moments.  “Can I ask,” said Oz, “how long have you been a werewolf?”

                Remus smiled wryly.  “Far too long; since I was a small child.”

                “So you have lots of practice dealing with the wolf, then.”

                “Out of necessity,” Remus replied.  “It’s not like I had a choice.”

                “Maybe…maybe sometime we could share stories?”

                Remus gave him a small smile.  “Sometime, perhaps, but not today.  Let us speak of happier things.”

                “Sure,” said Oz with a shrug.  “Can you tell me about my mother?”

                “Your mother?  Of course.  Where should I start?”

                “How about when you first met?”

                “Alright, that seems as good a place as any.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Fred & George just may be on to something here! The next chapter will focus solely on Oz's parents, so we won't see our favorite pranking twins again just yet. Never fear! Operation Lacks-a-Name has only just begun!


	6. Chapter 5: Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Remus met Oz's mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: There is some material in this chapter, implied or discussed briefly, that could be upsetting/offensive/socially unacceptable. So here's the warning:
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains mention of two minors having sex. It also briefly discusses the IDEA of abortion, though not by name. If either of these things upsets or offends you, I'm sorry, but it's part of this story. You can skip the very last section if you like, but you might miss some important information.
> 
> OCs Mentioned (in this chapter):
> 
> Jessica Martini: friend of Lily Marauders
> 
> Luna Dumbledore: friend of Lily & Marauders, daughter of Aberforth Dumbledore

** Chapter 5: Love Story **

_“We were both young, when I first saw you_

_I close my eyes and the flashback starts—_

_I’m standing there, on a balcony in summer air.”_

_-“Love Story” by Taylor Swift_

**_September 1, 1977_** **:** Remus noticed her right away; her bright red hair stood out over the muted blondes and browns of most of the other students.  Her lively, vivacious personality drew in the other students like flies to honey.  He was eleven, so he wouldn’t say that he was smitten, but he was intrigued by this bright, colorful girl.  He hadn’t had much opportunity to interact with other children his own age before now, so he felt deeply out of his element.  Jessica Martini, the Italian-English girl who had befriended him on the train (before winding up getting detention for setting off dungbombs in the corridor), was loud and fearless.  She had seen her new friend’s curious glances at the redhead and so seated herself near the girl at the Gryffindor table.

                “The name’s Jessi Martini,” she introduced herself.  “This is my friend Remus Lupin.”

                “I’m Lily Evans,” said the redhead, smiling brightly.  Her emerald eyes sparkled with joy.  “Isn’t this so exciting?  I can’t believe I’m actually here!”

                “Muggleborn?” asked Jessi, smirking knowingly.

                “Yes,” said Lily, blushing scarlet.  “Is it that obvious?”

                “No,” said Remus, surprising himself by speaking at all, “not at all.”

                “Thanks,” said Lily, smiling brightly at him.  “You’re kind to say so.”

 

                **_November 24, 1977_ : **“You’re leaving again tomorrow, aren’t you?”

                Remus stared in horror at the redhead wrapped in a spring green bathrobe.  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he protested, his voice shaking.

                Lily’s emerald gaze was steady.  “I know your secret, Remus Lupin,” she said, stepping closer to him.  He was frozen in place; he couldn’t move.  He could barely breathe.  This was it; he was done at Hogwarts and it hadn’t even been a year.  He closed his eyes tightly, a single tear slipping from beneath the lid.

                Suddenly he was engulfed in a soft, warm hug.  “I know you’re a werewolf, Remus,” Lily whispered in his ear, “and I don’t care.  You’re still my friend.  I will never hate you for something you can’t control.”

                “Y-you don’t hate me?”  He hated how shaky his voice sounded.

                “Of course not, silly,” she said, her voice muffled from being buried against his pajama clad chest.  “I could never hate you.  You’re the nicest, kindest, smartest boy I know and if other people can’t see that then it’s their loss.”

                “Y-you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

                “Of course not,” promised Lily.  “I would never betray you like that.”

 

                **_October 22, 1979:_ ** “Remus?”

                The sandy haired boy looked up from his book.  “Yes Lily?”

                The redhead was nervously twisting the gold ring she wore on the middle finger of her left hand.  “Remus, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you.”

                Remus put the book down ( _The Troublesome Terrors of Greater Britain_ by O. M. Gawde).  “You have my undivided attention, Flower.”

                Lily let out a nervous giggle and plopped down ungracefully beside the tall teen.  “I-it’s kind of silly,” she began, fixing her eyes on her knees as she spoke.  “I-I already talked to Luna about it and she told me I was being ridiculous, worrying so, but…promise you won’t laugh?”

                “Cross my heart,” said Remus, giving her a lopsided smile and crossing an X on his chest with his pointer finger.

                Lily took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Rem, there’s this guy that I like and I’m not really sure how to tell him.”  She continued to stare at her knees despite Remus’ curious gaze.  “I-I’ve liked him for a while, but I didn’t realize how much until recently.  We’ve been friends for a while and I don’t want to jeopardize that, but I like him as more than just a friend.  I _like him_ like him, you know?  Every time I’m around him, all I can think about is how gorgeous his eyes are and how much I just really want him to kiss me and—”

                “I get it,” said Remus, his voice cold and stony.  “You should tell him.  Any guy would be lucky to have your affection, Lily.  You’re an amazing girl; you deserve only the best.”

                Lily let out a frustrated sigh and turned her piercing emerald gaze on her friend.  “You really are completely clueless, you berk,” she said.  Then she did something that Remus did not expect.  Swift as a doe, she threw her arms around the tall werewolf teen and pressed her lips to his, kissing him soundly.  “It’s you,” she said softly as she pulled away.  “You’re the one that I want.”  Remus couldn’t stop the dopey grin that spread across his face.  The only other time he’d been this happy was when his friends had told him in second year that they didn’t care that he was a werewolf.

 

                **_March 10, 1980_ : **“Happy birthday, Remus,” said Lily, giving her boyfriend a peck on the cheek.

                Remus smiled brightly at her.  “Thanks, Lil,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her into the seat next to him on the worn, scarlet sofa.  “So what’s this grand birthday surprise you have for me?” he asked once she was seated next to him, his arm draped casually across her shoulders.

                Lily sighed and relaxed into Remus’ chest.  “It’s a shocker, Rem,” she said nervously.  “Are you sure you want it now?  Wouldn’t you rather wait til after you have your cake?”

                Remus leaned his head on top of Lily’s and kissed her red hair.  “Well, is it a good shock or a bad shock?”

                “Um…both?  Either?  I’m not really sure myself, actually.”

                “Hmm,” Remus’ voice vibrated through Lily’s skull, tickling her skin.  “I’ll leave it up to you to decide, then.”

                Lily huffed moodily.  “I was afraid you’d say that,” she said.  “I suppose if I tell you first, you always have the chocolate to look forward to if you take it badly.”  She took a deep breath, held it to the count of seven, and let it out.  “Remus, do you remember that night we said we’d never speak of again?”

                “If I say yes, doesn’t it count as speaking of it?” 

                The-night-that-shall-never-be-spoken-of was in fact a hazy blur of sweat and passion to both teenagers.  It had all begun with Sirius and Jessi, who claimed the fledgling couple was far too uptight and therefore spiked the punch at one of Gryffindor’s infamous quidditch victory parties and made doubly sure that Lily and Remus were never wanting for drinks.  They woke up the next morning in Remus’ bed quite naked and very sore.  Needless to say, the thirteen-year-olds were terrified and embarrassed and thus vowed never to speak of the night again (neither of them spoke to Jessi or Sirius for an entire two months after they found out their involvement, either).  That had been back in December, before Christmas break. 

                “In this case, I think we need to make an exception,” said Lily.

                Remus pulled away so that he could look Lily in the eye.  “Lils, what’s wrong?  You sound scared.”

                Lily let out a sob.  “Oh God, Rem, I’m pregnant!”  Tears fell from her eyes and she collapsed onto his thin chest.  “I’m not ready to be a mother, Remus!” she said.  “I’m only fourteen!  I’m still a child; I can’t have one of my own!  What are we gonna do?”

                Remus hugged Lily close and closed his amber eyes; he was terrified too, but he didn’t let her know.  Right now she needed someone to lean on and he’d be damned if he took that from her.  “What do you _want_ to do, Lily?” he asked softly.

                Lily sniffed.  “I can’t keep it, Remus,” she admitted sadly.  “As much as I’d love to, I’m just not ready to be a mother.  I’m pretty sure you’re not ready to be a father, either.”

                “No, I’m not,” he said.

                “But I can’t imagine just _ending_ it,” said Lily.  “I just—I can’t do that.”

                “And I will support that,” said Remus.  “I know it’s not really my choice, but I wouldn’t want you to.”

                “I went to Madam Pomfrey last week, when I was feeling ill,” she admitted.  “She suggested adoption.  She has a friend who works at an agency in London and she said that she’d be happy to help me—us—get in contact with her.”

                “I-I think…I think that might be for the best.  We’re just too young, Lils.”

                “I know,” she sniffed.  “I just hope we don’t end up regretting this someday.”

                “If we do,” said Remus, “I promise to be by your side…even if we aren’t together.”

                Lily narrowed her emerald eyes at him.  “Remus John Lupin, are you breaking up with me?”

                His amber eyes flew open wide.  “Godric, Lils, of course I’m not.  I would never—I _like_ being with you, Lily,” he said.  “I’m just being realistic here, Lils.  We’re only fourteen; what are the chances we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives?”

                Lily sighed.  “I see your point,” she said.  “Do you think we’ll at least be friends say, ten years from now?”

                “Lily, I can pretty much guarantee that we will be friends for the rest of our lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is: how Oz came to be, as told by Remus Lupin. ;)
> 
> Next chapter we'll check back in on the father and son and see how things went.
> 
> Comments & kudos are the lifeblood of my plot dragons, but flames are not welcome.


	7. Chapter 6: The Truth About Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oz and Remus get to know each other while the Weasley twins plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Mentions of OC children of Marauders at the end of the chapter. If you don't like this, or any of the Marauders simply having many kids...well, they're really not much of a part of this story other than the occasional mention. If this still puts you off, I'm sorry and thanks for reading thus far. If it doesn't, then enjoy this chapter!

** Chapter 6: The Truth About Love **

****

_“The truth about love is it’s blood and it’s guts_

_Purebreds and mutts_

_Sandwiches without the crust_

_It takes your breath, cause it leaves a scar_

_But those untouched never got never got very far_

_It’s rage and it’s hate_

_And a sick twist of fate_

_And that’s the truth about love”_

_-“The Truth About Love” by Pink_

**_October 6, 2001_ :  **“I’m sad to say that your mother and I didn’t last long as a couple after you were born,” said Remus, concluding his tale.  “We tried once more, soon after we graduated Hogwarts, but I think that deep down we both knew that it wasn’t going to work between us.  However, we remained friends even until her death.  Beyond, I would say, as I still consider her one of my greatest friends.”

                “For what it’s worth,” said Oz quietly, contemplating Remus’ story, “I’m glad you decided to give me up. My adopted parents are—were—great and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.  I got a little cousin out of the deal too, so I’m gonna count that as a win.”

                “Would you—would you tell me about them?” asked Remus nervously.  “Your adopted family?”

                “Well, it’s been just me and my mom, Nancy, for most of my life,” said Oz.  “My dad, Kevin Osborne, died when I was eleven.  Other than that, I’ve got my Aunt Maureen and Uncle Greg.  I used to babysit their son, my little cousin Jordy.  Occasionally Gamma Nellie would come to visit; I found out recently she’s actually a witch, though Grandpa George was apparently a muggle—the man died before I was born.”

                “Did you have a good childhood?”

                “Yeah,” said Oz.  “It was great, despite the location.  Sunnydale is no the friendliest place to grow up.”

                Remus frowned thoughtfully.  “Sunnydale—why does that name sound familiar?”

                “It’s a town in southern California,” said Oz.  “It’s kind of a hotspot for dark magic and demons.”

                Remus’ eyes widened.  “La Boca del Infierno,” he breathed.

                “I take it you’re familiar.”

                “I may have heard of it,” said Remus, a smirk on his face.

                “Oh?” said Oz, raising a red eyebrow in question.

                “I happen to be something of a Dark Arts buff,” said Remus.  “My specialty is dark creatures, but I am also well versed in spells, counter spells, and magical objects and hotspots.”

                “How’d you get into something like that?” asked Oz.

                “School,” said Remus.  “We had a different Defense professor every year, even back then, and the subject fascinated me, so I’d spend extra time in the library reading everything I could find on the subject.”

                “I’m a musician,” said Oz.  “My dad actually got me into it when I was a kid.  He taught me how to play bass guitar.”

                “That’s pretty cool,” said Remus smiling.  “You know, my friends and I tried to start a band when we were about…sixteen, I think.”

                “What happened?” asked Oz, intrigued.

                “Let’s just say a certain pair of someones couldn’t stay out of trouble long enough to get anything off the ground; pranking always took priority.”

                “Fair enough,” said Oz.  “So, what about you?”

                “What about me?” asked Remus.

                “Well, I told you about my childhood.  What about yours?”

                Remus shifted nervously.  “There’s not much to tell,” he said shortly.  “My parents died when I was young and my aunt and uncle took me in.  They died when I was nineteen.”

                “Did you ever get married?” asked Oz curiously.

                “Ah, no,” said Remus.  “It’s never really been in the cards for me.”

                “Are you seeing anyone?”

                “No.  You?”

                “I’m engaged, actually,” said Oz, smiling happily.

                “Well, congratulations,” said Remus, smiling back.  “Do I get to meet the lucky girl?”

                “I think that could be arranged.”

 

                “Boys?”

                Fred and George looked up from the block city they were building with Lily.  “Yes Miss Willow?” they said.

                “I’ve got to run over to the staff room for a minute,” said the redheaded assistant professor.  “Can I trust you two to keep a close eye on Lily til I get back?”

                The twins exchanged suspiciously innocent looks.  “Course, Teach,” they said.

                Willow sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  “Yeah, I _totally_ bought that,” she said, sounding resigned.  “Just—keep her safe and don’t lose her, boys, or you _will_ be spending the rest of your school years as rats.”

                “We’ll keep her safe, Teach,” said Fred.

                “She’ll stay in one piece, promise,” said George.

                Willow narrowed her eyes at them and pointed her finger sternly.  “ _Rats_ ,” she said once more.  She glared at them suspiciously as she backed out the door.

To be fair, the twins waited five whole minutes before putting their plan into action.  Mindful of Miss Willow’s threats of rathood, they made sure that Lily was safely ensconced in her playpen before Fred firecalled Bill in Egypt.

                “Hey Bill!” he called out, startling the oldest Weasley brother off of his couch.

                “George—Fred—whichever one you are—aren’t you supposed to be in school?” sputtered Bill, kneeling down in front of the fireplace.

                “We are,” said Fred.  “Wanna join?  We found something we need another Weasley opinion on.”

                Bill gave a long-suffering sigh.  “Fine,” he relented.  “Step aside; I’ll be right through.”

                On the Hogwarts end, Fred pulled his head out of the fireplace, a wide grin on his freckled face.  “He’s coming,” he told his twin.

                “Excellent,” said George, an identical grin on his equally freckled face.

                Less than a minute later, the fire flashed green and the tall, gangly form of Bill stepped out.  “So, I’m here,” he said, brushing ash and soot from his dark wash jeans.  “What do you need me for?”

                “So, we have his new professor,” said Fred.

                “Assistant professor, actually,” added George.

                “Right,” agreed Fred.  “And there’s just—”

                “Something about her.  Something—”

                “Familiar.  We were wondering if—”

                “You would meet her and tell us—”

                “What you think.”

                Bill, quite used to the twins’ method of speaking, wasn’t fazed in the least.  “And where’s this professor now?” he asked.

                “She ran off to the staff room,” said George.

                “She should be back soon.”

                “Threatened to turn us into rats if we lost her kid.”

                “Bill nodded.  “She sounds like a sensible person,” he said.

                “Hey!” protested the twins.

                Just then the door opened.  As one the three Weasleys turned to watch Willow enter the room.  When she saw the extra redhead her eyes narrowed.  “What did I say, boys?” she said, jade eyes narrowing further.

                “Rats,” they chorused.

                “Why is there a third—”  She looked closer and her eyes widened.  “Hey, I know you,” she said.  “You’re that wizard from Egypt.  We met last year; you told me and my fiancé about that Wolfsbane stuff.”

                Bill’s eyes widened in recognition.  “I remember,” he said.  “Willow, right?  And your fiancé Oz?  You were pregnant then, weren’t you?”

                “Yeah.”  Willow walked over to the playpen and picked up her daughter.  “Meet Lily.”

                “Hi,” said the little girl shyly.

                “Hi,” said Bill, smiling widely.  “I’m Bill.  I’m Fred and George’s big brother.”

                “That explains _so_ much,” said Willow dryly.

 

                “So did my mom ever get married?” asked Oz curiously.

                Remus seemed to brighten as the subject shifted away from his own life.  “Yes she did,” he said.  “His name was James Potter.  He was one of my best friends as well as my cousin.  He’d had a crush on Lily since he first laid eyes on her when we were all eleven.  We all knew this, but Lily _hated_ him back then.  Wouldn’t give him the time of day to save her life.”

                “How’d you manage to date then, and keep James as your friend?” asked Oz.

                “A few things,” Remus answered truthfully.  “First off—as I pointed out to James when he first got mad at me—at the time I dated Lily, James was dating her best friend, Luna Dumbledore.  Second was Sir— _Black_ , another of our friends, pointing out what a hypocrite that made him, claiming Lily was the only one for him while dating her best friend and shunning me for dating her.  Third, James was, before everything else, a loyal friend.  Once he realized that my feelings for Lily were genuine, he stopped being such a dick.  I’ll admit, things were strained between us for a few weeks, but eventually Black talked some sense into him.”

                “That’s good to hear,” said Oz.  “How’d they end up getting together, then?”

                “Something happened in our sixth year that shook James badly and made him grow up,” said Remus.  “During our seventh year, James and Lily were head boy and girl together, got closer, and eventually began dating.  Things weren’t perfect, I’ll admit.  They went through a pretty rough patch our first year after Hogwarts and broke up; they both started seeing other people, even.  James met a muggle girl in London and Lily and I decided to give things another shot.”  Remus chuckled.  “Obviously that didn’t work out.  James and Lily got back together after about six months and eventually they got married.”

                “Were they happy?”

                “Very much so,” said Remus.  “Despite the war, they managed to carve out a life together and about nine months after they married, Lily had twins.  Mary and Harry were happy babies, loved and cared for by all of us.”

                “And then things fell apart,” said Oz knowingly.

                Remus sighed.  “Don’t they always,” he said bitterly.  “The Halloween after Mary and Harry turned one, Voldemort attacked them.  He killed James first, then Lily as she stood over the babies’ crib, protecting them.  He tried to kill the twins too, but for some reason his curse rebounded and rendered Voldemort nothing more than a spirit.  The twins were unharmed but for their scars: Harry’s a lightning bolt on his forehead and Mary’s a Christmas Star above her heart.”

                “Wow, that’s—wow,” said Oz.  “So I’ve got a brother and a sister, huh?  How old are they now?”

                “Mary and Harry are thirteen,” Remus answered.  “They’re at Hogwarts in their third year.  If- if you want to meet them, I could talk to Dumbledore about arranging something.”

                “Uh, sure, that’d be cool,” said Oz.  “So they don’t know about me?”

                “I don’t think so,” said Remus, nervously fidgeting.  “We—all eight of us, really—were rather, um, promiscuous in our youth.  Some people joke that Hogwarts was stuck in the sixties right up til the nineties, but it was really mostly true.  We all used to say it was the fault of Dumbledore and his mushrooms.”  Remus chuckled fondly.  “But, um, we rather took advantage of that reputation to excuse our reckless, ehm, _extracurricular activities_.”

                Oz furrowed his brow.  “Are you trying to tell me I have more siblings?”

                “Um, yes?” said Remus sheepishly.  “Twins run in my family; I’ve got three sets, plus Finn and Ro.  Lily and I conceived one of those sets during our brief time together after Hogwarts.  Other than that, Lily had two other sons, both with Black.  Are—are you terribly disappointed in me?” he asked timidly.

                “No, not disappointed,” said Oz slowly.  “Overwhelmed with an option on confused, I’d say.  Do I at least get a cheat sheet?”  Remus’ laughter echoed through the restaurant and the tension was officially—finally—broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please drop a comment if you like this story, but flames are not welcome, thanks.


	8. Chapter 7: Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow officially meets Oz's dad and the Weasley twins continue to plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *PLOT HOLE RE-EDIT 7/8/16: It's been brought to my attention that my original edit didn't really fix the problem, so I've done some more in-depth reworking of this chapter. Hopefully the problem is fixed now. ;)*

** Chapter 7: Hole **

****

_“Secrets_

_Eating at the core of me_

_Shut off_

_Trusting all the lies I breathe_

_I’m so far from where I need to be_

_I’ve given up on faith, on everything_

_All I wanted, all I needed_

_Was some peace”_

_-“Hole” by Kelly Clarkson_

                **_October 27, 2001_ : **  “Where is he Oz?” asked Willow, shifting a squirming Lily on her hip.  “Is he here yet?”

                Oz smiled softly at his fiancée and squeezed her arm gently.  “He’ll be here, Willow,” he said calmly.  “You just have to be patient.”

                “Not my finest quality at the moment,” grumbled the frazzled redhead.  “I am _so_ ready for a break from teaching.  Maybe I wasn’t cut out for it after all.”

                “That’s what all new teachers say at first,” said Remus, silently appearing in front of the couple.  “You’ll either grow used to it or…”

                “Or what?” asked Willow, eyes wide and pleading as she stared into her co-worker’s odd amber eyes.

                Remus cocked an eyebrow and smiled mischievously.  “Or you’ll crash and burn,” he said.

                Willow groaned and buried her face in Lily’s bright red hair.  “I knew it,” she bemoaned.  “I’m doomed.”

                Oz raised a questioning eyebrow at Remus.  “You know each other?” he asked.  “Wait, is _he_ the professor you’re working with up at Hogwarts?”

                “Well, yes,” said Remus, brow furrowed in confusion.  “Willow is my assistant professor.  How do you— _Willow_ is your fiancée?  Merlin, what are the odds.”

                Willow raised her face from the giggling Lily’s hair.  “Wait,” she said, “you know _Oz_?”

                “I should,” said Remus.  “I’m his birth father.”

                Willow stood gaping like a fish, her green eyes jumping back and forth between the two men like ping-pong balls.  “No fudging way,” she said.  “Why did you never mention this, Oz?”

The orange haired man shrugged.  “I guess neither one of us connected your Professor Lupin with my dad Remus.  It’s kind of surprising though, considering Remus isn’t exactly a common name.”

“How did I miss this?” lamented Willow.  “I can totally see the resemblance now.  And hey, guess the stoicism thing is genetic, huh?”

                Remus smirked.  “Only when we want it to be.”

                Willow snorted.  “Obviously.”  Something occurred to her just then, causing her to pause and scrutinize each man more closely.  “So, I know how Oz got bitten, but does your condition leave your children with any pheromones that attract others to them and leave them with a higher likelihood of turning, or was it just plain dumb luck?”

 

                Fred and George were more determined than ever to solve the mystery of Miss Willow Rosenberg.  Despite common belief, the twins were actually quite intelligent.  They knew that where lived the books, lived the knowledge.  However, to keep others continually underestimating them and to preserve their reputation as troublemakers, they rarely ventured into the vaunted halls ruled over by the formidable Madam Pince.  Luckily they had perfected their sneaking and, thanks to the Marauders, they knew every secret passage and hidden corridor practically by heart.  This allowed them to venture in and out of the library without Madam Pince or any other students being any the wiser.  Thus their reputation remained unsullied.

                The twins barricaded themselves in their dorm (their original roommates had long ago requested separate accommodations, so it was only the twins and Lee sharing the room now) and spread their latest acquisitions across the wooden floor.  Yearbooks and newspaper clippings made up the majority of their treasure, spanning from the present day back to the 1980s.  “Did you get her personnel file?” asked Fred, taking stock of their bounty.

                “Course,” said George, pulling the file from the back of his trousers.  He opened the old-fashioned manila folder and began leafing through it.  “This puts her birthdate in 1980,” he told his twin.  “She was adopted sometime after her first birthday from an orphanage in London—muggle, it looks like.”  Fred began to weed through their pile for books that would be relevant with their newly acquired information.  George frowned.  “This is odd.”

                “What?” asked Fred, scooting over to look over his brother’s shoulder.

                “Well, she was found with a bunch of other kidnapped children when she was only a year old.  It was some pretty big case from 1980-1982 where a whole bunch of magical and muggle kids were taken from their homes by the same person.  They never caught the guy, but they _did_ catch a few of his accomplices.”

                “So there’s a possibility.”

                “Exactly.  Let’s focus on finding out more about the case and which families reported missing kids.”

                “On it,” said Fred, practically diving across the floor back into his pile of books.  “You wanna pull Bill in again?”

                “Only if we can’t find enough on our own,” said George.  “He’s got some contacts that could be useful.”

 

                “Are you talking about the werewolf thing?” asked Oz nonchalantly.

                “Because we got that out of the way the day we met,” added Remus, smirking.

                 “You two sound so much alike,” Willow said, giggling inexplicably.

                “Mama otay?” asked Lily sweetly, running her little hand through her Mother’s hair just like Willow often did to her.

                “Mama’s okay, Lily-Cub,” promised Willow.  “Your Dada and Grampa are just being silly gooses.”  She glanced at the two men who were sharing conspiring grins with each other.  “Men,” she sighed.  Lily giggled.  “Okay boys,” she said loudly.  “Since you already know all about each other, you can have long conversations about the pitfalls and misadventures of your cursed days—nights, technically, I suppose.  We came here for a reason today, gentlemen.  We’ve only got a few hours to see about six different houses and decide which one Oz and I are going to buy.  You said you wanted to help your son, Remus, so both of you get your heads screwed back on straight and help Lily and me find a house for our family.”  The men stared sheepishly at the ground.  “Before I grow old here, people,” snapped Willow, her eyes narrowing in impatience and her red hair billowing in a non-existent breeze.  That snapped Remus and Oz out of their funk.  The men scurried to do as Willow bid, Oz taking Lily and Remus guiding them down the Hogsmeade streets to their first destination.

 

                “George! I think I’ve found something!”

                Fred’s cry broke the silence of the room that had been punctuated only by the rustling of pages for far too long.  “What is it?” asked George, setting his folder down and walking on his knees over to his twin.

                “It’s a list of children reported missing from 1979-1982.   They’re mostly wizarding kids too, though there _is_ a muggle or two mentioned.  Could be muggleborns, I suppose.  That’s not what’s interesting though; _look_.”

                George looked at the name under Fred’s finger then shared a look with his twin.  “I think it’s time we had a nice _long_ talk with Mum and Dad,” he said solemnly.  The name, written in black ink glittered on the page as though it had been written only minutes ago: _Danielle Willow Weasley_.


	9. Chapter 8: Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Willow discuss Halloweens past and Sirius Black makes his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Finally getting to the plot of PoA...be prepared for things to pan out differently from cannon though...

** Chapter 8: Halloween **

_“How could a night so frozen_

_Be so scalding hot?_

_How can a morning this mild_

_Be so raw?_

_Why are entire years strewn_

_On the cutting room floor of memories?_

_When single frames from one magic night_

_Forever flicker in close-up on the 3-D Imax of my mind”_

_-“Halloween” from_ RENT

 

 ** _October 31, 2001_ :  **Willow, Oz, and Remus decided to spend the morning and afternoon of Halloween together with Lily as that evening was the first of the November full moon.  Willow and Remus called off classes for the day and the three adults (and one baby) gathered in the young couple’s new Hogsmeade home.  “It’s probably better for Lily to do Halloween early in the day anyway,” said Willow after Remus’ fifth time apologizing for the inconvenience.  “Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one transforming tonight.”

                “She’s got a point,” said Oz, quirking an eyebrow at Remus over Lily’s head.

                “I’ll give you that,” replied the older man, dipping his head in acknowledgment and smiling wryly.

                “So,” said Willow, “what are Halloweens like at Hogwarts?”

                “Oh, they’re wonderful,” said Remus, smiling happily.  “Back when I was in school, the Great Hall was decorated with all sorts of festive decorations: skeletons, pumpkins, and often even live bats.  Sometimes Dumbledore would hire a band to play and we’d have a Halloween Ball and costume contest.  Those were some of the best Halloweens I ever had.”  His face turned sad.  “Of course, I haven’t truly enjoyed Halloween since 1989.”

                “What happened in 1989?” asked Willow curiously, missing the over-the top slashing motion Oz was making against his throat from his spot on the other side of the couch, behind his father’s back.

                Remus’ voice when he spoke was raw with pain.  “My whole world fell apart,” he said.

 

                Fred and George had sent off a letter to their parents about the name they’d found on the missing children list, but their mother’s reply had been purposefully evasive and vague.  “This will never do,” said Fred, re-reading the letter for the thousandth time.

                “No, it won’t,” said George distractedly as he tore through their pile of books and papers with wild abandon.

                “You lose something there, Forge?” Fred asked curiously.

                “Just the book I borrowed from Mary that she suddenly has the burning desire to re-read.”

                Fred visibly flinched.  “Which one was it?”

                “The blue one with the gold lettering?” he said, sounding unsure, but not pausing in his search.  Not that Fred blamed him; Mary’s anger was a sight to behold…especially when someone messed with her books.

                “You don’t remember?” said Fred.  “Your girlfriend’s going to kill you if you lost it, you know.”

                “I know,” snapped George.  “So are you gonna help or what?  It’s the one we needed to look up the families of those kidnapped kids.”

                “The one on wizarding genealogy?” asked Fred slowly, stopping in his tracks, a guilty look spreading across his pale face.

                George stopped and glared at his twin.  “What did you _do_ , Fred?”

                “I may have returned that one to the library.”  At George’s glare, Fred held up his hands defensively and said, “Hey, I thought it was a library book.  I didn’t realize you’d borrowed that one from your temperamental girlfriend.  Why’s she have it anyway?”

                “She wanted to look up her family history and the library didn’t have it, so she bought it over the summer in Diagon Alley.  She’s gonna kill me; she kept going on about how hard it was to find.”  George groaned and covered his face with his arm as he flopped down onto his bed dramatically.

                “Don’t worry, Forge,” said Fred, sitting down beside his brother and patting his twin’s other arm comfortingly, “we’ll pull a little marauding mischief out of our pants and this’ll all be solved by morning.”

                “It better be,” mumbled George from under his arm, “or she’ll never speak to me again.”

 

                “You know, we had some pretty interesting Halloweens back in Sunnydale,” said Willow, attempting to divert the subject.

                “Oh?” said Remus curiously.  “What happened?”

                “Well, a couple of years ago we went to this haunted frat house that Oz helped set up and it turned out that someone had accidentally summoned the fear demon Gachnar, which made the house _actually_ haunted.  It made all of our fears come alive; Xander was invisible, Buffy couldn’t stop fighting demons, Oz started to transform, and my magic got away from me.”

                “Sounds…rather festive, actually,” said Remus.  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want that to happen to me, but I understand the sentiment.”

                “The best part was that the fear demon was only a couple inches tall so Buffy just squished him with her boot,” said Oz.

                Remus laughed.  “That sounds like a whole other story.”

                “The Gaelic inscription in Giles’ book read ‘actual size,’ but he didn’t realize that til after,” said Willow.

                “Any other exciting Halloween stories?” asked Remus curiously.

                “Well, there was the year that Giles’ old buddy from his demon summoning days came to town and caused everyone who bought something from his store to turn into their costumes.”

                “That actually sounds kind of interesting,” said Remus.  “I’m assuming something went horribly wrong?”

                “Of course,” said Willow, “it’s Sunnydale.  Xander got turned into a soldier, Buffy was an eighteenth century lady, and I got turned into a ghost.  A bunch of little kids got turned into demons and this one vampire, Spike, decided to use the chaos from the spell to recruit them to help him go after the Slayer.  It nearly worked too, but Giles confronted Ethan and was able to stop the spell just in the nick of time.  Everyone went back to normal and Spike was left confronting a royally pissed off Slayer.”

                “That was actually the day I first really saw Willow,” said Oz, a soft sort of half-smile in his face.  “I had no idea who she was, but I knew at first glance that I just had to meet her.”

                Willow blushed scarlet and Remus chuckled.  “Love at first sight, eh?” he said.

                “For me, anyway,” said Oz.  “Since I met her, she’s been it for me.  Even before Jordy bit me.”

                “Jordy’s the wolf that bit you?  I thought you said he was your cousin?” said Remus.

                “Well, three days out of the month he’s a wolf, yeah, but he’s still my little cousin.”

                “Was he born a wolf, then?” asked Remus.  “I’ve never heard of a bite from a non-transformed werewolf turning someone if he wasn’t born as one.”

                “Well, yeah,” said Oz.  “Turns out Uncle Greg was bitten shortly before he married Aunt Maureen.”  He tilted his head thoughtfully.  “Is that a legit concern then?  A born werewolf being contagious twenty-four/seven?”

                “Yes, but if your Lily hasn’t transformed yet, you don’t have to worry.  A born werewolf will transform on the first full moon after their born; if she hasn’t yet, she’s not one.”

                “I was wondering about that,” said Willow, glancing over at Lily, who was playing with her dolls in the corner.  “All of the books were pretty vague on the subject.”

                “I could recommend you some books on the subject,” said Remus.  “I’ve done a lot of research on it over the years and I can tell you which ones are worth reading and which are completely useless.”

                “Can you?  That would be amazing,” said Willow, eyes shining with enthusiasm.

                “And they’re off,” said Oz, sitting down beside Lily and picking up the doll he was handed.  “I think it’s best to leave Mama and Gramps alone for a while, Lily-Cub.”

 

**_Later that night…_ **

Willow was woken from her sleep by a rather loud commotion outside her rooms.  Quickly throwing up a silencing spell so that Lily wouldn’t wake too, she shoved her feet into her fluffy rainbow colored slippers and stepped out into the corridor in her purple and lime green flannel kitty pajama set. 

She caught Charity as she rushed past.  “What’s going on?” Willow asked her.

                “There’s been an attack inside the castle,” said the frazzled woman, her chocolate hair tousled and her peach colored nightgown rumpled from sleep.  “Sirius Black was inside the castle; he slashed up the Fat Lady trying to get into the Gryffindor tower.”

                “Is everyone alright?” asked Willow, concerned.

                “No one was hurt,” said Charity.  “The Fat Lady’s in a panic, though; she won’t show her face and she’s hiding somewhere up on the third floor.  It’s just the fact that Black made it past the dementors at all…it’s concerning, Willow.  With all the protections around the school, he never should have been able to set foot inside.”

                Willow frowned.  “Aren’t there like a million secret passages here?” she asked, the gears in her head turning a mile a minute.  “Are those being guarded?”

                “Well, yes,” said Charity.  “All the ones that Filch knows about, anyway.  Which is most of them, I think.”

                “But it’s possible that a former student might know of some that he doesn’t?”

                “Well, I suppose…”

                “Where’s Dumbledore?” asked Willow.

                “He’s gathering everyone in the Great Hall for the night, but…”

                “Alright,” said Willow, ignoring the older woman, “I need you to go get Lily and meet me there, please.  I have something I need to discuss with the Headmaster like _right now_.”  Without another word to the confused brunette, Willow ran off down the hall and disappeared out of sight.

 

                “Dumbledore!” Willow called out as she skidded to a stop in the Great Hall.  “I have to talk to you!”

                “Miss Rosenberg,” snapped Snape, sliding silkily across the room to her, “kindly refrain from yelling like a lunatic as there are children trying to sleep.”

                Willow rolled her eyes.  “Yeah right, Snape,” she said.  “After all this excitement, the only ones who are going to be sleeping are the ones who are passed out drunk.  And don’t tell me that none of the students would dare cause I can list at least a dozen off the top of my head who _would_.  Move aside, Snape, I need to talk to Dumbledore _now_.”

                “No need to shout, Miss Rosenberg, I’m right here,” said Dumbledore, appearing suddenly from behind the greasy Potions professor.  “What is this urgent matter you need to speak with me about?”

                “Sir, it’s about Sirius Black,” she said.  “I think I might have an idea about how he got into the castle tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed the plot dragon-muses and leave a comment if you liked the story! (No flames, please.)


	10. Chapter 9: Judas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow and Remus discuss Sirius Black and Bill confronts his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Lots of flashbacks in this chapter. Keep in mind that in this fic, the Marauders graduated from Hogwarts in 1984.

** Chapter 9: Judas **

****

_“The only one who took you in_

_The only one who held your hand_

_Defended you against the others_

_Had your back on everything_

_Never let you down_

_You turned around betrayed your only brother_

_Forgetting me, you took things in your hands and left me out_

_After we’d been through so much, how could you let me down?”_

_-“Judas” by Kelly Clarkson_

_**November 3, 2001**_ **:** “What did you want to talk about, Willow?” asked Remus as he tapped his wand against his chipped, porcelain teapot to boil the water for tea.  The pair was sitting in the living area of Remus’ quarters, as per Willow’s request a few days earlier.

                Willow fidgeted nervously.  She’d been so sure at first, but the more she sat on her hunch, the wonkier it sounded to her.  “I have something I need to ask you,” she said, looking at her hands in her lap, her long fingers twisting and twining together restlessly.

                “Ask away,” he said, pulling out two mismatched cups, as chipped as the teapot, with teabags already in them and pouring the boiling water over them.

                Willow took the cup she was offered, pale blue with tiny yellow bows, and blew on scalding liquid to cool it.  “Alright, I’m just gonna come out and say this,” she said.  Taking a deep breath, she continued, “What is your relationship to Sirius Black?”

 

                “Oy, Bill, we know you’re there!”

                “C’mon out, Bill, you can’t hide from us forever!”

                “I can certainly try!” Bill yelled from where he had barricaded himself in his bedroom.  “It’s nine in the bloody morning on a Saturday, boys.  What the hell are you doing in Egypt, anyway? You’re supposed to be at Hogwarts!”

                “It’s _ten_ in the bloody morning,” insisted Fred.

                “Time difference, boys!” yelled Bill, still refusing to leave his room.  “Ten your time is nine mine.”

                “Really?” said George.  “Are you sure that’s how it works?”

                “Yes,” said Bill.  “Can’t this wait another hour?  Or three?”

                “Nope,” said the twins together, making themselves at home on their brother’s navy blue couch.

                Bill sighed and reluctantly opened his door.  His hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail and he was dressed only in a pair of red and gold Gryffindor print boxers.  “Can you boys at least let me get dressed before you interrogate me on whatever bee’s buzzing around in your bonnets this time?”

                The twins looked at each other and shrugged.  “Don’t see why not,” said Fred.

                “Be our guest,” said George.

                “Thanks ever so much,” said Bill dryly, slamming his door shut.

                “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” commented Fred.

                “That’s because someone’s _annoying little brothers_ burst into his flat, _uninvited_ , at stupid o’clock in the morning on a bloody _Sunday_ to annoy the crap out of him,” yelled Bill from his room.

                “Someone is apparently not a morning person, Gred,” tutted George.

                “No Someone is not, Forge,” said Fred.

 

                “I-I’m not sure what you mean,” stuttered Remus, his hands shaking as he set his teacup (butter yellow with daisies) down.

                “Please,” said Willow, rolling her eyes, “it didn’t take much research to figure out that you went to school with Black and it only took a little more digging to find out that you knew him personally.”

                “We were friends,” admitted Remus, “as close as brothers…or so I thought.”

                “What happened?” asked Willow.

                Remus sighed and began his tale.  “After graduation, the four of us moved into a flat together; me and James and Sirius and Peter,” he told her.  “It was a dark time for the Wizarding World, at the height of Voldemort’s rise to power, but we were young and optimistic.  We were finally done with Hogwarts, our whole lives ahead of us, ready to take on the world…”

               

                **_June 12, 1984_ :  **“Full moon starts tonight, gentlemen,” said James jovially, lounging casually on their burnt orange monstrosity of a couch.  “First one since graduation.”

                “I’m well aware, Prongs,” said Remus, sitting at their wooden table stirring sugar into his tea.  “It’s not like I’m likely to forget.”

                “Sorry, Moony,” said James sheepishly.  “I know you hate the full.”

                “You try turning into a bloodthirsty monster three nights a month, your bones cracking and breaking and your insides rearranging themselves, and see how you like it,” snapped the irritable werewolf.

                “Chill, Moony,” said Sirius, sliding up behind him and squeezing his shoulders gently in comfort.  “Prongs didn’t mean anything by it.”

                Remus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I know; I’m sorry I snapped, Prongs,” he said.

                “That’s okay; I won’t hold it against you,” promised the bespectacled young man.

                “So what _are_ we doing tonight?” asked Peter from the ugly brown and green plaid recliner he had found at some muggle second-hand shop in London.

                “Wormtail,” hissed Sirius, glaring at the short, pudgy man, “we’re dropping the subject now.”

                “Oh, sorry,” squeaked Peter, looking guiltily up at Remus.  “I-I didn’t mean…”

                “I know, Peter,” said Remus tiredly.  “Besides, things like this need to be planned ahead of time.  I’ve arranged it with Professor Dumbledore that I can keep using the Shack until I’m able to find another secure location for my transformations.”

                “So we’re meeting up there just before moonrise, then,” said Sirius casually.

                “Padfoot,” sighed Remus, “you’re not…”

                “Should we call the girls?” asked James, ignoring his cousin.  “You know they’ll want to be there too.”

                “Maybe just Jessi,” said Sirius.  “Gina’s dating that older guy now—Albus?  Alfred? Something like that—Luna’s busy setting up house for my brother and Lily…” he smirked at James, “well, we all know how you get around her.”

                James blushed bright red.  “Just for that I’m making Moony my best man instead of you,” he snapped.

                Remus rolled his eyes at his cousin’s antics.  “To do that you first have to propose, Prongs,” he said.

                James glared at him.  “Just for that you are no longer my best man _or_ my favorite cousin, Moony,” he said.  “The job’s all yours, Wormy.  Wanna be my best man?”

                “Weren’t you and Lily just talking about taking a break from dating the other day?” asked the blonde young man innocently.

                James glared at him too.  “I hate you all,” he snapped.

                All three young men burst into laughter.  “Love you too, Prongsie!” yelled Sirius, collapsed onto Remus’ shoulder.

                “Thanks for that, James,” said Remus, wiping tears of laughter off his face, “I really needed a good laugh today.”

                “That wasn’t meant to be funny,” the messy haired young man grumbled, slouching into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, and pouting childishly.

 

                **_Present Day_ : **“Alright, boys, what can I do for you?” asked Bill, exiting his bedroom dressed in faded black jeans, a _Weird Sisters_ t-shirt in royal blue, and black dragon-hide boots, his fang earring secured in his ear as usual.

                “What can you tell us about the 1980-1982 kidnappings?” asked Fred.

                “We found a name on the list that means something to Mum and Dad, if their evasion of the subject is anything to go by.”

                “Oh?” asked Bill from the kitchen, where he was pouring himself a mug of coffee from a muggle pot.  “What name might that be?”

                “Danielle Willow Weasley,” they said together.

                Bill was so surprised that he actually spit his coffee across the room.  “What?” he croaked.

                “Danielle,” said Fred.

                “Willow,” said George.

                “Weasley,” they said together.  “What do you know about her?”

                “Mum and Dad told me she died,” he said solemnly.

“…We all joined the Order of the Phoenix right out of Hogwarts,” Remus told Willow, who was riveted by his tale.  “It was a group Dumbledore created to fight Voldemort.  We were all idealistic and starry-eyed back then, certain that we could take on the world’s troubles and defeat them.  We started out as eight: myself, the werewolf bookworm; James Potter, confident and brave; Peter Pettigrew, loyal and cautious; Regina Jordan Johnson, caring and motherly; Jessica Martini, fearless and bold; Luna Dumbledore Black, gentle and shy; Lily Evans Potter, fiery and intelligent; and Sirius Black, daring and cocky.  We thought ourselves invincible back then.  But then the reality of war soon set in and the Death Eaters began to pick us off one by one.  Luna was the first…”

 

 ** _July 31, 1988_ :  **“They’re perfect,” said James in awe, staring at the twins in his wife’s arms with stars in his eyes.

“You two still haven’t told us their names,” Remus pointed out.  “Or told us who’s going to be the girl’s godparents.”

“We’re waiting for the others,” insisted Lily.  “They should be here soon.”

Sure enough, Regina walked through the hospital room door seconds later, followed closely by Jessi and Peter.  “We’re here,” announced Jessi unnecessarily.  “Where’re the little tykes?”

“Right here,” said Lily.  “Come see them; we’re still waiting for Luna and Sirius.”

Fifteen minutes of cooing over the babies later, Sirius finally showed up, eyes red and a baby carrier strapped across his back.  “How’d you get Cassi in here?” asked Regina curiously, smiling at the sleeping raven-haired baby nestled against Sirius’ back.  “Mungo’s doesn’t usually allow babies in.”

Sirius shrugged.  “I ignored the nurses who tried to stop me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Where’s Luna?” asked Lily.  “She doesn’t like to be so far from Cassi usually.”

Tears started to fall from Sirius’ stormy grey eyes as he stared at Lily.  “Luna’s dead,” he croaked, “Orion too.  I went to pick her up and found the Dark Mark floating over her house.  She’d hidden Cassi in a closet under a crap-ton of spells.  I found Luna dead in the nursery, but there was no sign of Orion.  They must have killed him too.”

“He was Regulus’ son, though,” said James.  “Surely they wouldn’t kill the son of one of their own.”

Sirius shrugged helplessly.  “They’re all twisted; who knows,” he said.  “What use would Voldemort even have for a two-year-old boy?”

Tears fell from Lily’s brilliant emerald eyes.  “This was supposed to be a happy day,” she sobbed.  “Now Harry will never get to meet his godmother.”

“You’ve named him Harry?” said Regina.

“Harry James Potter,” said James, trying to smile.

“And Mary Lily Eleanor Elizabeth Brianne Guinevere Anor Potter,” said Lily.  She blushed at the stares the others sent her way.  “We couldn’t agree on a middle name and since she was a surprise, we didn’t really have time to debate it.”

“Lily after my Tigerlily,” said James, staring lovingly at his wife and squeezing her hand tightly.

“Eleanor for James’ mother,” said Lily.

“Elizabeth for Lily’s mother,” said James.

“Brianne, just because I love the name,” said Lily.

“Guinevere for my favorite great-aunt,” said James.

“And Anor for James’ great ancestor, Merlin’s lover,” said Lily.

“I hope she lives up to the names you’ve given her,” said Remus softly.  “It’s a big destiny for such  a little girl.”

James smiled down at the small baby with tufts of bright red hair, like Lily’s, and said, “I’m sure she’ll do great things.”

“Luna would have loved it,” said Regina.  “She’d love that Cassi wasn’t the only one of our kids with a long-ass name anymore.”

Sirius chuckled.  “She would,” he said.  “I don’t know how she ever convinced me that our daughter should have such a long name.  Cassiopeia Selene Helen Hecate Anor Black; honestly, who names their kid that?”

“She didn’t give you a choice, mate,” said James, “just like Lily didn’t give me one.”

“I think it suits her,” said Peter.  “She looks like she’s going to be a little pistol.”

“Just wait til she starts dating, James,” teased Jessi.  “I’ll make sure to tell her all the really good snogging spots at Hogwarts.”

James looked at the honey-skinned brunette in horror.  “No you will not,” he insisted.  “My baby girl is _not_ going to date til she’s thirty—at _least_!”

 

 ** _Present Day_ :  **“James was quite the character, huh?” said Willow.

Remus chuckled.  “That he was.  That was just the way our little group worked, though.  When things got to be too much, someone would bring up something silly or change the subject abruptly to get our minds off of whatever bad things were happening.”  He shrugged.  “It worked well enough…for a time…”

 

 ** _October 29, 1989_ :  **Sunday dinners had become a thing for the Marauders and their female counterparts (the Unattainables, they’d been called in school) after the birth of Lily and James’ twins.  Things were unbelievably tense nowadays, even between the close friends.  The Potters were, of course, concerned about their children; Regina was distracted by her own children, a disapproving husband, and a demanding job; Jessi was so caught up in her dancing and serial-dating that she saw little else; Peter was twitchier than ever, always leaving abruptly to visit his worried, overbearing mother; Remus was constantly tired and worn around the edges from Dumbledore’s missions to infiltrate the werewolf packs; and Sirius was snappish and tense, casting unfounded suspicions at his friends with little provocation.

Lily sighed in frustration at the tension between her husband’s best friends.  “Honestly,” she snapped, “if you two have something to say to each other, get it out in the open already.”

Sirius glared daggers at Remus.  “I think we all know that _someone_ here is a traitor,” he snarled.

Remus glared back, clenching his fork tightly in his fist.  “What _exactly_ are you implying, Sirius?” he said, his voice even and cold.

“You know _exactly_ what I’m implying, Remus.”  The two young men glared at each other, neither stare wavering in the least.

“You two are ridiculous,” snapped James irritably.  “No one here is a traitor.  I’d trust every single one of you with my life, Lily’s life—our _children’s_ lives.  Now stop being idiots and let’s enjoy our dinner together.  Who knows when we all might be able to get together again?”

 

 ** _Present Day_ :  **“That was the last time I saw James, Lily, and Peter alive,” said Remus sadly, surreptitiously wiping a tear from his cheek.  “The next day, Lily and James went into hiding with their kids, with Sirius Black as their Secret Keeper.  The next night, Voldemort attacked their house and killed them both to get at the twins.  Peter, brave fool that he was, confronted Black about his betrayal and wound up dead on the streets with twelve muggles, all the victims of Black’s curse.  The largest piece they ever found of Peter was his finger.  As for Black…when the aurors came for him, he was standing in the middle of the carnage laughing like a madman.  They carted him off to Azkaban without a trial.  After that day, the three of us remaining fell apart; Jessi refused to believe Black was guilty and so wouldn’t talk to anyone who did; Regina retreated back to her family to try to salvage her crumbling marriage; and I…well, my world was shattered that day.  I pretty much lost all of my friends—my _family_ —in one awful night.  With all the anti-werewolf laws, I didn’t even get the comfort of getting custody of my children.  I’ve been alone for twelve years, Willow.  It’s not a life I would wish on anyone…not even on Black.”

 

Bill Weasley had a bone to pick with his parents.  He loved them to pieces, but if what his brothers had told him was true, then they had been keeping a secret from him—from all of them—for years.  “Mum, Dad?” he called out as he stepped out of the floo.

“In the kitchen, dear.”  Bill followed his mother’s voice and found her chopping up vegetables at the counter.  “To what do I owe this surprise visit?” asked Molly, smiling up at her eldest son.

“Fred and George said something to me today that got me thinking,” said Bill.  “Do you think you could clear something up for me?”

“Of course, dear,” said Molly.  She handed Bill a knife.  “Help me cut up these veggies while we talk; I need to get the stew on soon or it’ll never be done in time for supper.”

Bill obliged his mother and picked up a carrot.  “Mum,” he asked as he chopped, “what happened to my sister?”

“We told you all about it over the summer, dear,” said Molly absently.  “She was possessed by a diary and forced to open the Chamber of Secrets.  Poor darling nearly died.”  She wiped away a tear.  “If it weren’t for Harry and Mary…”

“No, Mum,” said Bill, “I know what happened to Ginny.  What happened to Danielle?”

Molly jumped, nearly slicing her finger with the knife.  “Wh-what are you talking about, Bill?” she said, voice shaking.  “We told you, Danielle died when she was just a baby.”

“C’mon, Mum, I know you’re lying to me,” said Bill.  “The twins told me about the list of missing kids; they found Danielle’s name there.  What _really_ happened to Charlie’s twin?”

Molly sighed and set down the knife.  “This isn’t a happy story, Bill,” she said, gently pulling him over to the table and sitting them both down.  “I’ll tell you, but promise you’ll let your father and I decided how to tell your siblings about her.  You’re the only one who really remembers her, dear.”

“Deal,” said Bill.  “Now, what happened to my little sister?”

Molly took a deep, shaking breath and began.  “It was a day like any other, back in 1981,” she said, “I was hanging up the wash in the garden that afternoon, you were running around with your toy broom, and Charlie and Danielle were napping by the back door…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary's middle names:
> 
> -Eleanor after Joan Eleanor Lupin Potter (James' mother)
> 
> -Elizabeth after Sarah Elizabeth Herd Evans (Lily's mother)
> 
> -Guinevere after Clara Guinevere Potter Ozmar (James' father's paternal aunt)
> 
> -Anor after the sorceress Anor Mysterio (Merlin's lover and James' ancestress)
> 
> Comments are always welcome...unless they're flames. Please feed the plot dragons! ;)


	11. Chapter 10: Taking Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy strikes the Weasley family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: New chapter time! Yay!
> 
> AN2: Another flashback chapter. :)

** Chapter 10: Taking Over Me **

****

_“You don’t remember me but I remember you_

_I lie awake and try so hard not to think of you_

_But who can decide what they dream?_

_And dream I do…_

_I believe in you_

_I’ll give up everything just to find you_

_I have to be with you to live, to breathe_

_You’re taking over me”_

_-“Taking Over Me” by Evanescence_

 

                **_July 17, 1981_ :  **Molly Weasley smiled to herself as she watched her two-year-old son Bill run around with his toy broom, pretending to fight off mummies and dark wizards.  Charlie and Ella, just seven months old, slept soundly in their playpen near the back door.  She hummed happily to herself as she shook out the bedsheets and hung them on the line to dry.  It was a beautiful, peaceful summer day and she couldn’t be happier; she had three beautiful children, two wonderful brothers, and a loving husband who would do anything for her.  Life was as close to perfect as if could possibly get.

                “Excuse me, ma’am, could you point me in the direction of the nearest village?  I’m afraid I’m terribly lost.”

                Molly looked at the dirty, cagey-eyed man with narrowed eyes.  She was instantly suspicious of him; there was something cold and dangerous in his amber eyes.  “Ottery St. Catchpole is about ten minutes down the road,” she said shortly.  “You can’t miss it.”

                “Thank you,” he said, nodding his head briefly.  “I hate to be a bother, but could I trouble you for a cup of water?  I’ve been traveling all day.”

                Molly was still suspicious of the man, but her good manners won out.  “Of course,” she said.  “I’ll just fetch a cup from the kitchen.  Bill,” she called out, picking up a twin in each arm, “it’s time to come inside.”

                “But _Muuummm_ …”

                “No buts, William, inside _now_.”  Bill didn’t dare disobey that tone of voice and sullenly followed his mother into the house.  “I want you to watch your brother and sister closely now while I step back outside; I’ll just be a second.  Do not let them out of your sight, do you understand me young man?”

                “Yes, Mum,” said Bill, “but why—”

                “Never mind why, Bill, just do as I say,” snapped Molly, her temper worn thin by her anxiety over the strange vagabond still standing outside her back door.  “I’ll be back in just a second.”

 

                Molly didn’t give the strange man more than a passing thought after he left, heading off toward town and leaving her family unharmed.  If she was a bit clingier than usual when Arthur arrived home that evening, well, she was a young mother of three; that was completely normal.  She didn’t mention the stranger to Arthur that evening, though she soon wished that she had.

                That night Molly and Arthur were woken by a strong blast of untrained magic and a piercing wail coming from the nursery.  Molly was out of bed and down the hall in a flash.  Inside the nursery, Charlie was wailing his head off from his crib, the window was thrown open, and Ella’s crib…was empty.  “Arthur!” Molly called frantically.  “Ella’s missing!”

                Arthur came barreling into the room behind his wife, glasses askew and blue checkered bathrobe falling off one shoulder.  “What!” he cried, whipping out his wand from his robe pocket and glancing around the room frantically.  “Where could she have gone?”

                “Oh Arthur,” sobbed Molly, picking up their crying son and rocking him in her arms, “I’ve had a horrible feeling all day.  There was something _off_ with that man earlier; I just know he had something to do with this.”

                “Molly, it was probably a coincidence,” said Arthur weakly, trying to convince himself (rather unsuccessfully) that his wife’s intuition was faulty.

                “No, Arthur,” she insisted stubbornly.  “That man had _something_ to do with this; I just know it!”

                Arthur gave a resigned sigh.  “I’ll floo the aurors,” he said.  “Take Charlie and check up on Bill while you’re waiting, Molls.”

 

                Not five minute later, Alastor Moody and his partner Chris Potter (along with Chris’ protégé, a young black man by the name of Kingsley Shacklebolt) stepped out of the Burrow’s fireplace, followed closely by Molly’s twin brothers, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, who were both aurors alongside Moody and Potter.  “Where is she?” one of the twins (Arthur never could tell them apart) demanded.

                “She’s up in Bill’s room with the kids,” said Arthur, allowing the redheaded men to brush past him on their way to comfort their sister.

               

“Molly!” the twins called out as they stormed up the rickety stairs with all the grace of a herd of elephants.  They burst into their nephew’s room unceremoniously, relief filling their identical blue eyes as they spotted Molly sitting on the bed, hugging her two sons close.

                “What happened?” asked Fabian.

                “Moody was quite vague when he called us in,” said Gideon.

                “Ella’s gone,” sobbed Molly, breaking down in tears and soaking her boys’ red hair.  “Someone got past the wards and stole her out of her cradle.”

                “Our wards?” said Fabian incredulously.

                “The ones that took us three bloody months to come up with?” added Gideon, just as incredulously as his twin.

                “Is that all you care about?” snapped Molly irritably.  “Your niece is missing and all you can do is complain about your precious wards?”

                “Molly, that’s not what we meant at all,” said Fabian soothingly.

                “We’re just worried about what this could mean for the _rest_ of your family,” added Gideon, echoing his brother’s tone.

                Molly’s lower lip quivered and her warm brown eyes filled with tears.  “Oh, oh!  Don’t cry, Molly-Dolly,” said Fabian, blue eyes widening dramatically.

                “We’re here for you, Molly-Dolly,” added Gideon, hesitantly sitting down beside his little sister and pulling her head down to his shoulder.

                Fabian joined his siblings on the bed and gently wound his arm around them.  “There, there, Molly-Dolly,” he said, laying his head on top of hers.  “Moody and Potter are on the case; you couldn’t ask for a better team.”

                “And that Shacklebolt kid is shaping up to be just as good as his old man ever was,” added Gideon in an attempt to reassure their grief-stricken sister.

                “If anyone can find your girl, it’s them,” said Fabian confidently.

                “What about you?” asked Molly, sniffling.

                “Well, we’re no slouches either,” bragged Gideon.

                “We’ll be right there with them until we find your Ella,” promised Fabian.

                “You can always count on us, Molly-Dolly,” said Gideon.

                “I know,” said Molly.  “You two are the best big brothers a girl could have.”

                “Oh stop!”

                “You’ll make us blush!”

 

                The search for Danielle Weasley was on.  It only intensified once the aurors realized that she was not the first (or the last) child to be taken in a similar manner over the past year.  As many aurors as could be spared with the rising threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters were pulled off their cases to join the search.  Weeks passed, then months and still nothing.  The Weasleys were beginning to lose hope of ever seeing their precious daughter again.  It wasn’t until late March of 1982 that there was any sort of big break in the case, but when it broke…lives shattered, changed irrevocably…for better or for worse.

 

 _**March 28, 1982**_ **:** “Molly! Molly!  Gid and I’ve figured it out!”

                Molly discreetly wiped her eyes and looked up from the cutting board as her twin brothers, wide smiles on their identical faces, ran into the kitchen of the Burrow.  “Figured what out, Fab?” she asked.

                “Chris Potter and Shacklebolt have been stuck on a lead in Ella’s case for the past three months and we think we’ve finally cracked it for them!” the elder redheaded twin said happily.

                Molly’s brown eyes widened hopefully.  “Tell me,” she demanded, pulling her brothers down to sit with her at the kitchen table.

                “Well, Potter’s brother-in-law has a son who’s a werewolf,” explained Fabian, “and _he_ says that the packs have been recruiting lately.”

                “They don’t take too kindly to being told no and, well, apparently there’s been a sudden surge of young, newly-bitten werewolves being spirited away recently,” added Gideon.

                “Rumor has it that other kids have been disappearing too.”

                “Wizarding kids, or at least kids with wizarding talent.”

                “All the reports have one thing in common: all the parents admit to having seen a scruffy, dangerous-looking man hanging around their children prior to their disappearance.”

                “Do they have any idea who he is?” asked Molly desperately.

                “They have a name,” said Gideon.

                “He calls himself Fenrir Greyback,” added Fabian.

                Molly frowned.  “I’ve never heard of him,” she said.

                “I can’t imagine that he goes around introducing himself to his victims’ families,” said Gideon.

                “Seems that would be rather counterproductive, aye?” added Fabian.

                Molly rolled her eyes.  “That’s not what I meant,” she said.  “Do the aurors have a plan for catching him?”

                “Yeah,” said Gideon.  “Moody’s sources found Greyback’s hideout and—”

                “We’re planning a raid for tomorrow,” finished Fabian.

                “I wish you all the best of luck,” said Molly, hugging her brothers tight.  “Find my Ella and bring her home, boys.”

                “We will, Molls, promise,” said Gideon, squeezing his little sister tighter.

                “We’ll bring her back,” added Fabian, squeezing her as well, “or die trying.”

                “Please don’t die,” Molly said, her voice muffled in Gideon’s shoulder.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

                “Well hopefully you’ll never find out,” said Gideon, stroking Molly’s red hair affectionately.

                “We’ll do everything in our power to come back safe,” added Fabian, kissing the top of his sister’s head.

                “I’ll hold you boys to that,” said Molly, composing herself with a deep breath and wiping a stray tear from her freckled cheek.  “Now go on, boys, and bring your niece home safe with you.”


End file.
